


Hole in the Heart

by Alexis_Trvlyn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: BUT IT MAKES SENSE I PROMISE, Creator worship is a dead/dying religion, Crime, F/M, I'm butchering the lore for my own gains, Moral Ambiguity, Political ideologies, Racism, Smut, Solas is a professional hit man, Sorry!, Sporadic Updates, Un-canonized lore and history, Wonky police work, but there are alienages, lying, no Dalish clans, no magic, no veil, the au nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-05-20 15:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19379632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Trvlyn/pseuds/Alexis_Trvlyn
Summary: The Dread Wolf is an infamous sniper-assassin whose high-profile targets made him a celebrity. Very little is known of the man behind the scope except for his signature bullet, the only evidence left at the crime scene: a bloodied reinforced canine tooth.Police Officer Ellana Lavellan always dreamed of becoming a detective. But life often takes unexpected turns. Then a threat to the life of the famous philantrophist Justinia Divine will plunge her into the middle of a crossfire and unearth secrets better left forgotten.





	1. The Dread Wolf

A black Swiftwind sedan drove into an abandoned construction site.

Funding and legalities were the concerns and the skeleton of a 27th storey building stood waiting, empty now for weeks. Only the green net covered its nakedness, moving like mild ripples between long intervals. It was a relatively windless night.

Solas headed to the 22nd floor. The city lights provided him with enough illumination to move around confidently. He’d been here two days ago for reconnaissance. After scouting the neighborhood, he decided it had the clearest view with just the right angle of shot. The Montfort Continental Hotel was just a few distance away, golden outdoor lights illuminated each of the windows from below.

He unpacked his modular multi-caliber ambidextrous bolt-action sniper rifle and began to assemble it. The 5-kilo rifle was modified with a longer barrel to increase the velocity of his improvised .338 magnum bullet. He attached the suppressor on the muzzle, then loaded the bullet and cocked.

He eyed his target’s suite through his scope. It was all covered by a thick cream curtain. He tested his thermal imaging. The pulsing red silhouette of occupants in adjacent floors flashed on his portable panel. The suite he’s after unsurprisingly empty.

Solas arranged the workbench and placed his rifle atop, padded by plain dirty white cloth, underneath it was a tarpaulin left by construction workers. The cloth will catch the gunpowder residue once he fires. Truth be told, it wouldn’t matter even if the forensics finds any on the workbench, they wouldn’t be able to trace it anywhere and he’d be long gone since then. Still, he preferred to make his workplace clean. He eyed his digital watch. It read 23:00.

He glanced up and talked at the deep shadow. “You are not as quiet as you believe, Felassan.”

He heard a soft chuckle followed by the crushing sound of crumpling plastic sheet.

“He who hunts alone,” his protégé greeted, walking up to him behind the wire beam, dressed in full black suit, mid-length black hair gelled clean to his back. “I followed you here, in case you were wondering.”

Solas already knew, he noticed him as he was driving through the Imperial Freeway but he didn’t voice it out. There were people following him lately. Their employer, the Evanuris, already believe him too unpredictable. _Willful._ Of course, they’d send his student to remind him of his tight leash. They knew he was a sentimental fool.

In his silence, Felassan continued. “I asked to be sent with you. This is a high-profile target, a Supreme Court Judge willing to take the case regarding the slave-trafficking in Kirkwall. If you miss, I don’t think they can bear the shame.”

Solas raised a brow and eyed him long and cool.

Felassan grinned. “They know you won’t fail…Well, at least, I do anyway. Regardless, I am precaution.”

“In that case, why don’t you make yourself useful then?” It was Felassan's turn to raise a brow. Solas pointedly nod at the spotting scope hidden in the pockets of his bag. “For precaution.”

“Are you sure you trust me with that?”

“I’d like to believe I taught you well. And if I miss,” he smirked. “I have someone convenient to blame.”

Felassan laughed. “Gods, I feel like I’m back on my field exam.”

The soft tittering alarm made him look down. 23:15. Felassan took the equipment out along with its tripod. Solas lay prone on the workbench. Felassan repositioned the spotting scope by Solas’ shoulder and knelt behind it. They watch the hotel entrance, several men in suits walked out, waiting. Several cars came in and then a charismatic red muscle car drove by.

“I think our target has just arrived.” Felassan huffed. “Vacationing the money he chewed out from our employer.”

Solas leaned down to his rifle and steadied his stock with his left hand. “Your estimates?"

“You can’t be serious.” Felassan laughed uncertainly. “Solas, it’s too far. At least fifteen hundred yards by my estimate. It’s best to wait for him inside his suite, or take him out on his balcony.”

“The Evanuris wanted the message delivered. Loud.”

“Solas.”

“Felassan.” His voice brokered no argument. “Give me something, or I'll do this by myself.”

Felassan sighed and leaned on his spotting scope. “Fine, go to two Bravo by the T-intersection. See entrance tent with the red Longma.”

Solas followed the instruction in his scope, scanning the place for a match of the description, and confirmed. “Contact.”

“Go to glass.”

He saw their target getting out of the car and gave Felassan his sight. “The target is out of the Longma, wearing blue suit with blonde woman on his 3 o’clock.”

“That’s your target. Check parallax and mill.”

Solas read the numbers on his scope and voiced out the angle for his shot out loud for further verification. He breathed slowly, his heartbeat evening out. Felassan confirmed his estimations, and within seconds, read him the wind estimate and called his shot with three words. “Left. Point two”

Solas squeezed the trigger.

The gun sounded, the muzzle flash hidden by the suppressor. There is the familiar punch of recoil on his right shoulder. A one second delay as Death travelled piercingly through the wind. Then the target buckled down, his neck emptied of where his head was supposed to be. Red painted the pavement. Chaos ensued at the scene, far away, like a disturbed anthill.

“He’s down.” Solas confirmed, rather unnecessarily.

_He never misses._

In one quick movement, he takes his rifle and began disassembling. He packed them all on his back pack with efficient speed. He could do this all blindfolded. Felassan crossed his arms.

“Fifteen hundred yards and a moving target, _really_?”

“1,367 meters precisely. Need I convert it for you?” Solas said, folding the cloth.

Felassan laughed, delightfully impressed. “Show off.”

Solas gave him a wolfish grin.

They walked in companionable silence. Solas deposited his pack at the backseat of his sedan and climbed on to the driver’s seat. He eyed Felassan’s 600cc blue Courser, parked besides a fence made of corrugated aluminum sheeting. He always loved the flash. Solas' sedan was second-hand and a 10 year old model. Not that he cared what he drives so long as they ably get him from one place to another. He looked up to his student from his car window.

“Why are you really here?”

Felassan leaned down and waved a brown folder at him. “To give you the profile of your next target.”

_His last target._

Solas took a sharp inhale, there was a wild frantic thumping in his chest. If all goes well, he would finally leave all of these behind.

As if reading his thoughts, Felassan breathes out a disbelieving laugh. “You seriously think they would let you go? You? TheDread _fucking_ Wolf. You're practically a living legend. The Evanuris would sooner kill you than let you roam around willy-nilly. I know I would."

"I'm done, Felassan. I talked to M and she agreed."

He scoffed. "What did she promise you? A clean slate? A soon as you turned your back, they'd sic their hounds on you.”

Solas hated how sure he sounded. He also hated the fact that a part of him knows that he is telling the truth.

_He is Death's emissary. And to Death his soul is owed to. It is only a matter of time._

“If I leave, I might. If I stay, it is inevitable. With their's or their enemies. I hardly have a choice, Felassan. It is hell or high water but I owe it to myself to try." Solas  said. “For Cole.”

Felassan studied him. And he smiled, a small wan smile. “Fatherhood really made a mush out of you.”

Solas stayed quiet. He made to take the folder but Felassan held it in a vice grip, his purple eyes gleamed.

They shared a tight look.

Felassan shook his head. “They won’t make it this easy. One day, I don't want to find my arrow sticking out of your back.”

A fair warning. Realistic. _One day, he hopes he wouldn't watch his student on the other end of his scope._ Solas scowled at the thought and tugs the folder once more.

Felassan released it with a huff and a bow. “ _Hahren._ ”

Solas threw the folder at the passenger seat and lit the ignition and started to reverse the car out and unto the street, leaving Felassan standing amidst the dust.

He got back to his hotel room at precisely 00:56 depositing his backpack by the paneled wardrobe at the side of the door. He took his cap off and unlaced his heavy logger boots and pushed them at the sides. He began stripping his black cargo jacket and the plain flannel shirt beneath it, leaving him down to his white polyester tee. His steps were silent on the carpeted floor. A queen-sized bed was at the center of the room with a wall mounted flat-screen TV by its foot. He deposited the folder by the bed. Everything was sterile, impersonal, except for the child-sized green Cat-the-King tent near the curtained floor-to-ceiling window. The cool synthetic breeze of the air-conditioner made the draperies shift, orange smog and dotted lights peaked at intervals. The muted screen-light and the rickety sound of keyboard made him smile.

He silently made his way to the tent entrance.

Feet poked out wearing a pair of rainbow socks. The sight made him laugh inwardly. He wriggled his fingers at the soles and a surprised and happy yelp burst from the tent. Solas laughed out loud as he crawled inside. The young boy wiggled to the side to make room for them. The tent was a gift when the boy was eight and now a young lad of fourteen, the small space could barely fit him, let alone the two of them. Only half of their bodies were inside and they were shoulder to shoulder. No matter how tattered the old tent might be they both loved it.

It is home.

“Hello, Cole.”

Cole gave an impish grin, “…’Ello, Sol-las.”

“What are you doing? It is night time, you should be sleeping.”

As a response, Cole showed him the black screen of his laptop filled with white numbers. He rarely spoke and when he does it was usually in a string of seemingly unrelated words. He had learned to understand him, at least what he intends to say if not the literal, through the years. Instead Cole has special affinity with numbers and recognizing patterns. He spent most of his waking hours glued on the monitor screen, coding gods-only-know-what. But it makes him happy and that is enough to Solas.

He affectionately watched the lanky young boy he had raised. He is growing at an alarming rate. One day, he'd be taller than him. His wavy blonde hair now reached the middle of his nose and only one blue eye peaked behind the greasy curtain. He mentally note to have his hair cut otherwise Cole will start to look more like a wild animal. Cole mumbled unintelligibly under his breath.

_One day he will be his own man._

Solas sighed. Not once did he not worry about Cole's future. What the boy needed was a sense of security and constancy. Somewhere he could mingle and be cared for with proper treatment along with kids just like him. Solas watched him, praying that what he can offer will be enough. That he won't mess up this innocent boy's life more than he did. Guilt wracked him to his core. 

 _One day..._ Solas swallowed. For now, the only thing he could give him was his time and affection.  _Whatever they're worth._

He smiled encouragingly at the screen. "You've accomplished a lot since I've been gone. It is amazing."

Cole looked over him and started to lean in and sniff. He made a huge scowl and began squirming uncomfortably. _Gunpowder._ He hated the smell of gunpowder.

“I’m sorry.” Solas retreated out of the tent before Cole became fully upset. “I’ll go change and after that, we’d start counting off. How does that sound to you?”

Cole was still scrunching his nose but he nodded. As soon as Solas was out, the young boy turned back to his computer and was busy typing away.

Solas took out a towel and clean shirt and pants and bathe. He cleaned the remnants of Cole’s cereal bowl and washed them by bathroom faucet, letting them dry face down, on a folded hotel hand towel. He gently persuaded Cole to take a rest, counting the delineated faces of Cat-the-King on the tent, a nightly ritual that eased the boy knowing that his printed friend is well accounted for. As soon as his breathing evened out, Solas quietly left.

His watch read 02:37.

He still has time for work.

He lit one lamp and opened a mini bottle of bourbon and drank it neat. The mattress dipped as he perused the folder. A number of photographs were secured inside, beneath was two to three pages of the target’s profile. He felt for the SD card by the front pocket and booted the thing into his laptop, waiting for the program to load. He took another shot.

His eyes drifted back to the green tent.

Solas pinched the bridge of his nose. He rested his head by the board and simply listened to his breathing. _It will be all over soon._ He hoped he would remain standing at the end of it all.

After a minute of meditation he was back to work. He studied the picture on his hand. It was a woman. Old, 60-ish, grey hair and striking blue eyes. Beneath it, her profile read:

**_Justinia Dorothea Divine_ **

_Former Minister of Interior Affairs, Ferelden_

_Founder of Coalition for Advancement of Elven Rights (C.A.E.R.)_

_Investigating human and elven rights violation on Fereldan Alienages_  

Interference in their mules and the cheap-labor business, the Evanuris obviously disliked that. He read further:

_Location: Skyhold Manor, Haven, Frostback County, Ferelden_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Car names are taken from the Inquisition mounts because lolz


	2. Swooning is bad

Ellana Lavellan always dreamed of becoming a detective.

Now that she thought about it, she wasn't certain what exactly pushed her to a career in crime-fighting.

Perhaps it was growing up in the slums of Wycome in the Free Marches, she had dreamt of a life far away from the drugs and the cartels that held a vice-grip to the impoverish elven districts. Perhaps it was child-like naiveté that made her dream and imagine a better life for herself. Perhaps it was those cool shows she watched as a kid, where justice reigned, the good ones were rewarded and the evil ones punished. Perhaps it was after she witnessed losing her father in a gunshot wound due to an escalated argument between rival gangs that quickly turned violent. Perhaps it was after her father died, when her mother was forced to turn to prostitution to feed her and her family’s addiction to the latest fad: red lyrium.

When Ellana was twelve, her mother died of an overdose. Her body was found in a cheap and renowned lounge, dress tattered and eight hours dead. Her clients made their way with her, not knowing they were participating in necrophilia. _The drug kept her body warm_ , they had said defensively, _they didn’t know_. Because being unconscious and unresponsive was simply part of her job description.

When she was a child, she thought those were her only two options in life: crime or prostitution. After all, there was no real education in the Alienage.

No. That was not quite true. There was, though, it was the kind you wish you never learned.

Ellana saw first-hand how depravity can eat a person inside out. Violence begets violence. And to the denizens of the Alienage, that was simply the cycle of life. At a tender age Ellana learned it all too well.

She learned how to steal, rob and manipulate, though she never had to kill anyone. Never had the chance to. If she stayed, who knew? Perhaps she’d be bleeding out in an alleyway, with rats and wild cats scavenging at her flesh at the age of 22.

She excelled in school though in her case that wasn’t much of an achievement. Not when fifty percent of your classmates were absent and the other percent were busy getting high on drugs or pregnant. There were only eight of them in their High School graduation. In the end, her diploma didn’t amount to much. Hunger can teach you what school can’t. Delinquency was the only way to survive.

When she was 16, she participated in an armed robbery of a pawnshop. The plan fell through and being under the legal age, she was sent to the juvies instead of jail. There she found her opportunity.

In her three years in Wycome Juvenile Detention she had experienced kindness for the first time. Ms. Elthina, bless her kind soul, found potential in her. She helped her write up her application for a scholarship dedicated to marginalize communities. She got admitted to a university, far from home. It was the best thing that ever happened.

She graduated with Latin honors in the Starkhaven State University, majoring in Criminology with minors in Behavioral Psychology.

But it was in her minors class that her real break came. And it came from an amiable dwarf with a heart as golden as his amber eyes. Dr. Varric Tethras, child psychologist, author and specialist consultant for the Haven Police Department in Ferelden, introduced and recommended her to Deputy Chief Garrett Hawke.

She worked hard, harder than she ever did to earn her place for three years. Now she is a probationary Police Officer in Haven Police Department.

At the age of 26 she had regained control of her life. Haven PD became her home. The five storey concrete cabinet was where she felt she belonged.

It was now Tuesday, 22 Harvestmere ’88 at 6pm.

Ellana was a bit tired from her morning patrols and running the clerical work for the latest case, a side line for additional experience. She was the responding officer when a dead body was found outside the trails of the Pilgrim’s Path. Case in hand, she jogged to the second floor of the department where most of the detective offices were found. She eyed the door, imagining the day that her name will be embossed in thick black ink. For now, it read:

                **Duncan Grey**

 **Homicide Detective**  

She knocked on the glass pane and entered. “Good evening, Detective Grey,” and she smiled sweetly at the man sitting across him. “Dr. Tethras.”

“Good eve, _Officer_ Lavellan.” Dr. Varric Tethras greeted, casually lounging at the visitor’s chair. He did not age last she had seen the man. Mid-length straw hair combed loosely to a half pony, a single gold earring to his left ear and his signature chest hair, displayed with pride on an unbuttoned silk shirt.

Duncan was sitting, leaning on his old stuffy chair behind his desk. He was an impressionable man, tall in stature and well-maintained build despite his age being closer to 60s. He was a decorated veteran in the Fereldan army. When he spoke, there was a booming quality to his voice that required one to listen, even when he spoke softly. Ellana had great respect for the man and, in her time at the department, had looked upon him as her surrogate father, learning all that she can in investigating homicide cases. The man was exceptional.

He was reading the _Heraldic Post_ , showcasing last week’s headline: **THE DREAD WOLF PROWLS, SUPREME COURT JUDGE ASSASSINATED.**

Supreme Court Judge Bran Cavin was shot dead in front of Montfort Continental Hotel, she remembered reading the same article when it first hit the stalls. He was supposedly heading the next day to Kirkwall City to have the first hearing of the Ilithis v. Kirkwall. A legal nightmare involving a man named Varian Ilithis and his connections with the human-trafficking business in the City of Chains' underbelly, the ominously names Darktown.

Some say that Ilithis was to reveal the names of the powerful people within the illegal trafficking circle. Most had speculated that the Carta, the Coterie, even the Tevinter Venatori were involved. It was a high-profile case, with most judges backing out in fear for their career and their lives. Judge Cavin was the only brave – in this case, unfortunate – one to accept. The man apparently ruffled more than just one feather. Poor Mrs. Cavin had to struggle at her husband’s demise and the constant harassment of the media for his alleged cheating with an escort during time of death.

Another strong motive to hire a hit man too, Ellana thought.

The media was all over the coverage. The Dread Wolf fanned the people’s impassioned flames once more. Everyone was so used with reports of petty robbery, drunk driving and hit-and-runs that the media felt their viewers needed more excitement. And the Dread Wolf provided more than adequate of that.

It was still in the first week, Ellana was sure the novelty will wane after the second and something gruesome and new would catch the vulture’s attention. As far as Ellana was concerned, it’s just another reason to keep her .40 S&W pistol close.

That was Thedas in a nutshell. Ugliness like these sprung like mushrooms on shit in a rainy day.

She walked in and closed the door. The table was scattered with different clippings of the infamous assassin, if Ellana were to guess, expanding quite a layer full of the mystery sniper’s career. Lavellan perused the older papers.

The Dread Wolf has gained notoriety since his first high-profile target, a multi-billion business mogul back in ‘72. It was followed by several others: activists, politicians, military leaders. By now, his career spanned 16 years. Efficient, committed and prolific. What a deadly combo.

“Another political killing," she said.

Duncan was contemplative, watching the newspaper cut-out he taped on his wall. Finally he looked up to her. “It fits his profile.”

“Not to mention the homemade magnum bullets. The Dread Wolf got his moniker from using real canine teeth of a rare breed of Tirashan wolves, filing them and reinforcing them with lead,” Varric interjected, wiggling himself at his plush seat, a mannerism whenever he was excited. “It is curious, in the theocratic leadership of old Arlathan, one of their infamous leaders was Fen’Harel, a wolf-god, who rebelled against the status quo. In elven legends, he ate the heart of his enemies believing it contained their _foci –_ or soul. Historians believe that by taking it unto himself he cages them, trapped within him for all eternity, imbuing him with their power."

"By using real wolf teeth as his bullets, our assassin is assuming the role of one, symbolically eating his target, and taking their essence upon himself," Ellana continued. “Like a cannibal."

Varric smiled to his previous student. “Well, in a way. Figuratively. Spiritually. But what I think is that, our killer believes these people,” his hand hovered at the clippings on the table, the Dread Wolf’s victims in black and white print, “had done him or his pack wrong.”

Ellana scrunched her nose in disgust. “His pack of cruel slavers who victimizes elves as much as humans.”

“Which is kind of ironic,” Varric said almost placatingly. “Ancient elves believed that wolves were symbols of freedom and power. That belief still holds to some of the elven nomadic tribes in the Tevinter-Nevarran border. They often leave carcasses as an offering to the wild wolves, their god’s living kin.”

So the belief was pervasive even today. There were some rumors before she left that the belief in the Creators were resurfacing, but as far as Ellana knew, most elves she met were Andrastian.

“The name means nothing. Just another media sensationalization. Of course, it’s easy to digest that the culprit is another elf.” Ellana tried not to sound bitter, but failed.

The Revolution of Halamshiral and the subsequent Ferelden-Orlesian Intervention in the Dalish Civil War has painted in the minds of most people that elves were either a violent or poverty driven community. After the Treaty of Cumberland, the Dalish government surrendered and became a part of Orlais, which caused a territory dispute with Ferelden that still remained a grand standing issue until today after four decades past. Never mind that elves were now second-class citizens and has a social status a point above refugees.

“Well, they do share some rapport, is all I’m saying.” Varric leaned on the chair. “The belief has long gained traction in the north, and even non-elves are taking an interest in following it.”

Which conservative Chantry followers did not like one bit, Ellana responded inwardly.

Duncan stood up and ripped the paper on the wall, effectively shutting down the discussion. “This is the Inquisition’s business, not ours.”

“Right…” Ellana stretched her lips to a false smile.

Varric studied her boss, quietly.

Duncan had always held a morbid curiosity for the Dread Wolf. Though whatever the cause of it was he did not deem to share it.

Ellana continued, raising the reason why she was here in the first place. “Anyway, I have the report from the Coroner’s office. Would you like to read that instead?”

Duncan sighed and put down his glasses as he massaged his temple. He signaled her to go on, his attention solely on her now.

“Dr. Pavus confirmed that the victim’s wounds matched that of wild bear attack. It would appear our victim was out hiking on his own along the Frostbacks. All of our other evidences corroborate that fact. No apparent foul play," she said.

Duncan nodded, he sounded more tired than ever. “Very well. We can return the body to the victim’s family.”

“I don’t understand why people would go hiking, alone, in a bear infested area before hibernation.” Varric folded his arm on his chest, “doesn’t that sound mad to you?”

“People like the thrill of adventure," Ellana conjectured.

Varric scowled. “Hardly seems worth it, all things considered.”

She handed the folder to Duncan as he replaced his glasses. As the lead investigator, he signed in for the release form.

He eyed her above his glasses. “I’ll handle this Ellana, you go on home now. You’re over-worked as it is.”

“Oh, no. It’s no problem, detective.”

Duncan looked at her skeptically.

Ellana was taking direct experience from the detective before pursuing her MA. While it wasn’t necessary to get the promotion, she thought having more educational and field experience would make her a stronger candidate. She has been working overtime ever since she got her probationary status, fearing that she’d lose it all and start from scratch. She tried not to let her tiredness show, but the old man seem to have caught wind of it.

_He is a detective, after all._

She chuckled sheepishly, “….But thank you, detective. I will.”

* * *

She returned home to her rundown apartment. The only flat she could afford miles around. Considering she rode a bicycle to work, one extra mile meant a lot.

Ellana had checked on her rotation before leaving the department and found she was free for two days. Yay. Time to get her private life in order.

Dishes piled on the sink, dirty clothes on the couch and take-outs on the table. She disrobed her blue uniform and threw them at the laundry basket. In her white tank-tops and mid-rise boy shorts, the cool Harvestmere breeze was pleasantly cool on her sweat drenched skin.

Eyeing the stacking of clothes, she knew her top priority. She turned on her faucet and the thing sputtered. “Oh, shit. Not again.”

She pulled on her cargo pants in a huff and left her flat, taking two steps at the time as she headed for the landlord’s office at the first floor. She knocked on the wooden door. “Bartrand…!” another persistent knocking, “Bartrand!”

She heard a shuffle behind and a string of muffled curses. The damn thing opened an inch and Bartrand’s suspicious brown eye peaked behind the hooked chain. “What is it, woman?”

“The damned plumbing broke again.”

“Well, go get yourself a plummer.” He tried to close the door but she was quicker, she blocked it with her foot. The wood barely made an impact on her thick combat shoes.

“Whoa, hold it there, short pants.” Bartrand eyes flashed, Ellana smirked. “If you don’t get it in order, I’ll file a complaint.”

“Go and do so, in your fancy pad, lady officer. The system will just swallow it. Be my guest and do your paperwork. That’s pretty much what your good at anyway.”

_Arrogant bastard! How is he Varric’s brother?!_

She gritted her teeth. “I’m not wasting my money to pay for your responsibility!”

“If you can’t afford it, get a new flat!”

Ellana was prepared to blow, but Bartrand surprised her by opening the door another inch, kicked her foot out and slammed the wood back to her face.

 _Oh, I'm going to report his ass out till he eats and shits his words_!

But then again, he was fucking right. Complaints like these are just fodder for the paper machine.

Her anger deflated begrudgingly. She stomped off and back to her room, carrying the laundry basket the next minute and headed to the Hanged Man Laundromat just at the corner. It was small place run by Isabela, a Rivaini with a penchant for gambling and selling unattended clothes while their owners are unaware.

“Hey, sweetling. Long time no see.” She greeted atop the marble-printed linoleum counter. The same linoleum that covered the floors, although one couldn’t tell from the wear and tears. The place was badly lit, with clinical white fluorescent, making every person standing underneath look like they came out of the morgue. Ellana kept suggesting she’d switch to LED, cheap consumption of her electrical bills and better lighting, but Isabela was set in her ways.

Ellana grinned, “So can you give me the honest one?” She knew the Rivaini has been rigging the time meters to make the machine charge more.

Isabela's smile turned sour, “Take number 8, that’s the only one that counts fair.”

There were more people in the place than usual. Bartrand’s patron most likely, with the same reason as her. Oh Maker, she hoped he repaired the heaters. She wouldn’t want to spend her First Day like a popsicle.

As she thread down the aisle, she noticed machine 8 was currently occupied by a familiar tall blonde man. She smiled widely.

“Anders!”

“Hey, Ana. What’s going on with you?” he came forward with a hug.

Anders was one of the Assistant Teachers in Dr. Tethras class, a chirpy workaholic who spent just as much time flirting at a bar as well as doing his over-consuming job. Ellana could swear the guy operated in a time shift past 24 hours. But despite his unruly and cheek-in-tongue attitude, he was a pediatrician focusing on kids with special needs. He was here for his internship as Varric’s grad student. Now, he stayed as a volunteer. A good man with a good heart - once you let his innuedos pass by.

“Same old, same old,” she responded. Anders looked her over, a lip-splitting grin in his face. “What? What is it?”

“I got in phase 1. I’m leaving to Lydes in one week.”

The Dorothea Divine Scholarship. “Oh, Maker. Anders! That’s great news!”

“I know. If I pass, I can get to any university for my PhD. I’m thinking… White Spire!”

Ellana squeezed his hand. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I know I’m so happy for me, too.”

She rolled her eyes and they both laughed.

Anders cocked his head to the side. “You know, the Divine Foundation has an upcoming scholarship program too. A set-up by their branch in CAER, I think. You should try it out. I read about it, it’s tailored fit for you.”

“Yeah, I heard. I am an alumna of their undergrad program,” Ellana informed him. “But not right now, I just got my probationary.”

Anders eyes widened. “You little minx! Why didn’t you tell me? We ought to have celebrated, gotten drunk.”

“Precisely, that.”

“Spoiled sport,” Anders laughed. “Anyway, since you’re staying I was wondering…”

“I’ll look after Ser Pounce. I know the drill.”

His grin only got wider. “And that is why I love you.”

Ellana just chuckled.

The dryer just stopped and Anders began to unload his clothes. They said their goodbyes and arranged a time frame from when he’d drop the fat tabby to her place. Anders was in a rush to finish more paperwork from Varric’s clinic before he headed out for his interview.

As soon as he left, Ellana began feeding her clothes to the machine. She sat by the nearby bench and opened an old magazine. The Laundromat was almost full, with a vacancy on machine 9.

Then another patron came in, two of them actually: a tall, slim teenage boy in soft baggy clothes and a man in a black knit cap and slim fit winter jacket. Ellana glanced at them in periphery and returned to her reading.

They were talking quietly, the older man seem to instruct the boy how to operate the machine. Hers stopped then and she unloaded the first batch out. She usually hanged them at the windows instead of using a dryer - more economical. She started loading for her second one.

She noticed the boy was also doing his own loading and was using too much detergent. The man didn’t seem to notice as he was too engrossed on his book. Ellana observed for a moment, but then the boy poured the entire thing unto the machine.

She spluttered, “Hey!”

The boy eyed her blankly. Too late, the machine whirred. In the loud purring of fabric and water she was ignored. Damn, that was a lot of wasted clothes. She approached the man and tapped him on his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

He snapped to her, obviously surprised to be addressed. The most intense blue-grey eyes eyed her back. _Hot damn._ “…Yes?”

Ellana mentally banged her head. No need to be hitting on daddy-o while the kid was watching. “That’s yours?” she pointed at the teen, still mesmerized by the whirlpool of disaster he orchestrated.

The man nodded at her.

“Well, he kinda poured the entire detergent in there.”

His eyes flitted to the empty plastic on the teen's hand and sighed. “Ah.”

His kid just ruined a basket full of clothes and he just said, ‘ah’. Must be a saint.

He got up and calmly talked to the boy and made a move to turn the machine off. But the boy whined and he sighed, stopping short of shutting it off and was instead made to watch along as the chemical destroyed the poor clothes within.

Ellana was surprised. Most parents would have gone into a volcanic tantrum, but the man didn’t seem to mind.

By the end every fabric was discolored and greasy. The man winced but other than that proceeded to collect them quietly. The boy just watched, obviously pleased by his creation.

The man hefted another basket, his own clothing basket it would seem, and eyed the entire place for another available machine. The Hanged Man was packed and she was almost over. At least that was she reasoned when she addressed him once more.

“Hey, you can use mine. I also have some detergent left. That is, if you don’t mind smelling like ‘pink blossom’.”

His eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“…I’d better report this to the owner,” he motioned to washer number 9.

“Uhh, don’t mean to be a bad influence or something but she’d probably charge you more than it’s worth.”

“What would you have me do, then?”

“Well, I’d suggest that you let it run itself for a while and just pay whatever’s on your meter. Maybe it’ll clean up its own grease. Besides,” she leaned conspiratorially. As she neared, his smell wafted: soap and car perfume. “…She’s already overcharging you anyway.

“I see.”

She nodded sagely.

They sat in silence after that, she in her magazine and he talking to his son as he let the boy play at his touchpad, waiting for her to be done with her own laundry. The machine finally stopped and her meter dinged. She hefted her basket up and the weight of wet clothes made her stumble like a drunk.

“Here, allow me," he extended his hands to help.

Ellana’s eyes immediately drifted to his left ring finger. Long and boney and so deliciously empty. _Whoa, whoa. Hold your horses girl! Doesn’t mean he’s single and mingling._ Okay, okay. Maybe months of celibacy did have brain deteriorating side-effects. The direction of her thoughts made her face felt combustible. “Oh, no! No, no, no. It’s fine. I just live nearby!"

“So do I,” he said. “Just at the corner, in fact. It is no trouble.”

That made her pause, “Wait, you don’t mean Bartrand’s?”

“How did you know?”

She laughed at his surprised look; she spread her arms out, encompassing the Laundromat, as if that would explain the situation. “Bad plumbing.”

His smile was slow. His sensuous lips stretched to perfection. She ogled him shamelessly as he chuckled. He was clearly elven, in his late 30’s, with a sharp face and a light dimple on his chin. There was a light fluttering of warm freckles above his high cheekbones that lay in contrast to his cool eyes. Standing up he was clearly tall, around 6ft by her estimates. He was taller than most elves at least. Even his thrift store outfit couldn’t diminish his fine, fine silhouette.

A small clearing of throat made her look up. He was eyeing her curiously.

_Caught red-handed!_

Ellana felt fire ran up to her scalp. Heck, she wouldn’t be surprised if her hair was set aflame for all the embarrassment she felt. She was stumbling over her tongue for what to say.

But someone else spoke up, “Hey, any of you guys using this?” motioning at machine 8.

Both of them snapped to attention, but daddy-o was quicker to reply. “Ah…Yes.” He began to push his clothes in.

Ellana still stood dumbfounded. She felt like swooning. _Oh, great_. She ran 20 laps and didn’t even buckle down, and now some pretty man just stared at her and it was as if her bones ceased to exist. She felt like fleeing. She tried to lift her basket once more, and in her boneless state, it could have weighed a truck.

She bit her lips as she faced him, “Listen, I obviously need help with this and uh, I don’t want to waste your time running back and forth. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait till you guys are done. I mean, if that’s cool with you?”

He looked winded when he glanced at her. There was a faint pink glow on his cheeks. He coughed before speaking. “…That is practical.”

“Great, thanks,” she sat rigidly beside him on the bench. She picked up her magazine once more, but the images no longer registered. Perhaps, if she wasn’t so deafened by the loud beat of her heart, she would have noticed he wasn’t flipping the pages of his book either.

After an eternity, the meter dinged. And he stood up to collect his clothes. They paid their dues to Isabela, who was none the wiser of the teen’s mishandling of her property, and proceeded to their flats with him carrying his child’s basket and hers as she carried his. It was considerably lighter. He owned so little clothing. The teen was still busy staring down his touchpad. If he minded her making a move to his pop, he didn’t show it.

At Bartrand’s, there was no elevator service for floor level one to five, and Ellana was on three. They were all quiet on the way up; the only noise was the tapping sound from the boy’s screen and their heavy steps.

“So,” Ellana began, as they reached the threshold. “Room 304, that’s me.”

“Ah.” Somehow his face tightened. They stop at her door as she fumbled for her keys. Of course, as fate would have it, the thing won’t budge. She tried slamming her body to no avail.

“Allow me.” He tried to push it forcefully, but the damn wood just screeched on the concrete floor.

“Oh, try lifting it by the door knob before pushing.” Ellana advised.

He did and it finally opened, revealing her not so tidy room.

She laughed weakly as he eyed her place, face impassive. _Could someone shoot me now, please? That would be greatly appreciated!_   Now’s maybe a good time to throw herself out the trash bin, too.

“So, umm…Thanks?”

He smiled at her, “It's the least I could do.”

“I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“No, not at all.” He looked back and pointed at the door behind him with his thumb, “That’s us.”

Ellana stared at him, at the room behind then back at him.

He chuckled. He lifted his basket from her, long fingers grazed her knuckles, and inwardly she prayed it was deliberate. He walked towards the door of his flat, jamming his keys before turning to her with a small smile, “Be seeing you.”

Their door clicked shut.

Ellana’s jaw dropped.

Yep. She can swoon now.


	3. The White Ghost

The biting air was a welcome relief to the city smog.

It was still autumn but the Frostback was as white as fresh cut linen. Solas sold the old sedan for a bulkier red 4x4 with tires that could withstand the slippery two-lane road that led deeper in to the heart of the Winter Mountains. Cole sat, curled up the front seat, as he watched ice creeping up his side window.

At the end of the 12-hour drive from Haven City, passing through Gherlen’s Pass before turning southward, lay the small town named Herald’s Rest, precariously positioned near the Orlesian borders. Solas made the occasional stop to local inn keeps for lunch and a moment to be off the wheel before heading out once more. Crossing to the other side, one could reach Emprise du Lion. If one was brave enough to champion against nature’s most ferocious border of steep, white, mountain range.

Within a few miles, the road became a snow-packed tracked, polished clean by the moderate traffic of trucks and the occasional party of hikers that wished to challenge the peaks before Firstfall made it all impossible. 

They left their place at Bartrand’s before the sun rose and arrived at Herald’s Rest timely during dinner. Marethari welcomed them enthusiastically. He saw her waving at their car as he parked near the front porch.

She was a sprightly woman who could double down on work like she didn't know what rest meant. She walked briskly towards them and looked hampered down by the layers of her own colorfully knitted sweater and mittens. Admittedly, Solas felt trepidation in having to call them and let them know he was here. He had not been back since the last of their explosive disagreements. That had been a long time ago, but Solas was a proud man. He had always found it difficult to admit fault. But the sight of her dismissed his worries. Marethari was grinning from ear to ear showing her teeth stained by tobacco.

“Oh, Solas, my boy! _Da'len!_ ” She hugged him and pulled him down to kiss him on both his cheeks; which was quite a feat, considering her full height barely reached his chest. “Oh, look at you. You’re all grown up! What took you so long to visit? Have you been eating well? We were so excited when we received your call!”

Here comes an avalanche of questions, Solas chuckled as he hugged her back, pinning her graying head under his chin. “I miss you, too.”

He heard the car door open and slammed shut. Marethari glanced at his back, surprised. He had not mentioned Cole with them at all. There was a slight hesitation on his part, but Solas pushed it down and announced confidently, “Cole, come and say hello.”

Cole was dawdling at his steps, wary of the stranger. Solas approached him and placed a reassuring grasp at the young boy’s shoulder as he presented him to Marethari. At her look of confused bewilderment, he said, “This is my son, Cole. Cole, this is Marethari.”

In his periphery, Solas saw her crumple slightly at his cool introduction. He felt a slight sting but he opted to ignore it.

Cole came forward. “…’Ello.”

“Oh, my.” Marethari covered her lips as she eyed Solas and back at Cole.

Solas waited with bated breath as she looked over his son. It felt forever until Marethari cracked a smile. “Oh, come over her dearie, let me hug you.”

Solas beamed in relief.

Cole furrowed his brows, trying his best to untangle the syllables of her name.“…Mari...Ma...ri…?”

“Yes, I am dear boy,” Marethari embraced him happily, looking all over him once more, “My, my… you must have taken from your mother.” At the last word she pointedly looked at the now empty red car.

“Cole is my adopted son.” Solas explained.

“Oh,” she said without a tinged of disappointment. The way she paused, Solas knew what she was thinking. Judging from the glint in her eyes, she must be running off names on her mental list. Who would it be this time? Lanaya? Maren? Ashalle?

A phlegmatic voice broke their peace, “Mari?”

“Oh, Sarel. It’s our Solas. He’s come home!”

Solas straightened subconsciously as Sarel came to view. He was Marethari's husband, a veteran of the Fereldan army. He had graying hair that was receding along his back, the only thing that truly gives one a clue to his senior age. He was a short man, 5'7" or so but well-built - not the big muscular type but lean and wiry. His most distinct feature was the wound along his cheek that run low unto his jaw like a giant claw tried to rip his face off. The scar grazed at the edges of his lips. A bubble of saliva would often pop there whenever he spoke. The scar gave him a distinguishing accent, too, like some mean Nevarran cowboy. He was still on his hunting gear, probably just returned home after a full day's work.

The man eyed Cole from head to toe then his eyes drifted to him. Inscrutable. Solas felt like a little boy again, about to be disciplined.

“Sarel,” he greeted stiffly.

“Hmph. What stray did ye pick up this time.”

Solas bristled at his tone but he carefully even out his voice when he replied. “He’s my son. His name is Cole.”

Sarel waved his hand dismissively, “Bah! I don’t care what ye call yer _pet._ Marethari! Better heat dinner, cold’s killin’ me.” He entered the cabin, the aluminum screen door slammed close behind him.

“I baked you your favorite sugar cream pie!” said Marethari too animatedly. “I’ve also prepared your old room, though I wonder if you’d still fit on your old bed.”

Solas waved his hands, “We just stopped by. I came here for business reasons. I’ve already booked a place down at the lodge.”

“Nonsense! You came back, you should stay at home.” Solas could tell that Marethari felt deeply with that sentiment. Her lips shook with unsuppressed emotion and waving her hand at the door where Sarel was. “And don’t you mind him. He’s an old fool.”

She smiled again when she took his arm and pulled him in. Solas couldn't find it in his heart to brush her off. She grabbed Cole on her other arm. She looked them up and down, clearly unsatisfied with what she saw. “You need someone to take care for the both of you.”

Solas inwardly rolled his eyes. And here he thought he at least still has to wait till she had stuffed him full before breaching the subject. He underestimated her. “I can take care of myself.”

“You need to consider Cole’s welfare as well.”

“He is adequately provided for.”

Marethari laughed, cool and trickling. “Oh, _da’len._ Cole is a special boy and I know you love him dearly but caring for a child is both beautiful and difficult. He needs more than you to thrive. More than food and shelter. You are leading him as an example of how to be his own man. Having a woman around helps with that," she winked.

Solas didn’t know what to say, at least not after driving for hours. His brain was a mush and he desperately wished to dismiss the topic.

“I’ll think on it,” he replied noncommittally.

“Of course you will and while you do that, do you remember Arianne? Lovely young woman. She now works with the Park Rangers. You two went to the same high school together, though you were her senior when she started her freshman…”

Solas chuckled, “I think food is a more pressing issue.”

As they entered the premises, Solas felt thrown back into time. The small cabin hadn’t changed at all. The same old redwood furniture filled the space. One of the stool still had the same nick when he used it to reach at the upper drawers and fell. There was also no sign of modern technology, Sarel was still using the old beat-up radio the size of two loaves. The three of them headed to the dining table, a simple four-sitter set with knitted lace covering on the tabletop. The yellowish incandescent added to the wistful mood.

Sarel was already at the table and waited for the three of them. The rise of discomfort in the room was palpable. Solas could see Cole fidget beside him. When they were all seated, Marethari began with a short Andrastian prayer then began passing the food around.

“So, what kind of business are you going to do? Herald’s Rest is small; I doubt anyone would be interested here except for hunting or trapping.”

Solas chewed slowly. He wondered how Marethari could stand this mockery of a lively family dinner. He patted a napkin to his lips before replying. “There were rumors of sightings of the _Canis lupus arborum_ along the Frostback range. I was sent to investigate and capture several pictures so our writers could publish a story. There is a clamor for it now since the sightings of the bog fishers excited nature enthusiasts to investigate leads that could debunk previously thought extinct species.”

“Oh, publishing!” Maretharis squeezed her husband’s hand who remained stoic the entire night. “What was the name of that company you work for again?”

“ _Vir Adahlen._ ”

“Sarel, did you hear? Isn’t it amazing?”

Sarel threw his fork at the table. It clanged loudly against the ceramic bowl.

Marethari's face dropped.

“Arbor wolves are dead. Yer wastin’ yer time," Sarel spat.

Solas ground his teeth.

“The Arbor Wilds remained uncharted. It’s possible they have survived and propagated southwards." Solas realized too late that it seemed to have been the wrong thing to say.

Sarel banged his hand down on the table. “They’re _dead._ While ye were out playin’ Maker knows what, I’ve been to the woods and mountains meself and there ain’t no goddamn _wolves_ prowlin’ about!”

Solas gripped the edge of the table till his knuckles turned white. His voice low and growling. “I saw one when I was a boy. I had its –”

“Twenty six years ago and not a sight since!” Sarel interrupted. His face turned dangerously red. “I don’t know what those wackos been feedin’ ya. Ye spent a year in that fancy school and they’ve been fillin’ yer head with all that ancient elven crap."

"That has got nothing to do with this!"

**"It's got everything to do with this!"**

Marethari's eye swung to them back and forth, back and forth.

Solas' chest was heaving, blood pounding in his head.

Cole looked around wide-eyed like a deer caught in the headlights. His breathing was beginning to look labored and he was clenching and unclenching the silverware in his hands.

But Sarel wasn't done. Far from it.

"Ye think I don't know what ye up to? What all this means to ye? Ye've always been a stubborn lil hellion. Elven supremacy. The Dales," he spat vehemently. "What do ye care about that, huh? Yer barely home. Not makin’ enough calls to tell us how ye doin’. Heck, ye oughta be askin’ _us_ how we doin’! All ye care is the past, yet yer not even lookin’ back to see how yer old folks doin’. Ain’t no justice in that!”

“Sarel!” Marethari sobbed, "Stop it!"

“I’m just sayin’ what ye too afraid to say, Mari. He’s a big boy. Fancies hisself a father now. He can handle a few home truths.”

Solas felt molten anger boil with familiar heat. They'd run through this argument a half-wit could have predicted the outcome. He was wrong to come. So _bloody_ wrong. He was insane to think this time it wouldn’t be the same. Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result was the very definition of insanity. And Solas was insane enough to think, _to hope_...!

He stood abruptly, the wooden chair screeched at the polished floor. His eyes met Marethari’s and she shook in surprise. Venom dripped in his voice. “We’re leaving.”

Solas grabbed Cole’s arm and the boy winced, but Solas was too angry to notice. He practically dragged him to the main door. He could hear Marethari calling after them. “ _Da’len_!”

He ignored her. He grabbed their coats and took his car key out.

“Solas, _da’len_. _Please._ You shouldn’t be driving in the dark.”

Still he paid her no mind. They were now off the porch and now halfway through their parked car when Cole yelp and twisted in his arms. Solas released in surprised. Cole was rubbing his wrist gently and flinched when he extended his hand to the boy once more. It froze his anger for a moment.

“Cole, I –”

But a drop of tear shut him up. Marethari caught up with them and hugged Cole protectively, hushing the now sniffling boy in her arms. Solas felt wretched. He only wanted to get his son out of that festered hole that was once a home. In the end all he ended up doing was hurt him.

Marethari was now crying too. “We only ever wanted your happiness.”

Solas scoffed but it didn’t deter the old woman.

“We shouldn’t have let you run off and join that expedition _._ ”

Solas interrupted her with a raised finger, “My decision was my own. You couldn’t have stopped me even if you tried.”

“ _Da’len_ …if only –”

“Don’t,” he warned icily. “You’re not my mother.”

As soon as the words left his lips he immediately regretted them. It seems the world had left Marethari’s feet as she held onto Cole for support. She was ashen white and Solas felt vile. He quickly took it back.

“…I’m sorry. That was unwarranted.”

Marethari just nodded. She wiped her eyes nonchalantly to keep her dignity and Solas was affected by an influx of remorse. But that deed was done.

“There are times…” her voice cracked. “There are times I wish I could exchange myself…with your mother…”

Solas pinched his eyes.

“Had she lived, she would have done a better job raising you…” Solas shook his head but she continued, “…but believe me, we tried, _da’len._ We tried…”

"...I know," he said painfully. "I know...I just..." Solas couldn't help but remember it all.

The fires as Halamshiral burnt down to the ground; the Orlesian Lions and Fereldan Mabaris, feeding off at the dying Elven regime; their days on the run, hunger and cold their constant companion. The bullet scar that remained puckered above his heart. Perhaps it was the reason he could never keep any relationship, there was a hole in his heart where compassion was supposed to be. He remembered the she-wolf who fed off his father’s carcass and her now lost jawbone, the only grave marker of the horrors that happened during one winter in Southern Dales.

Except those he embedded in his bullets.

Incisors, canine and its molars – thirty six bullets in total – one by one, delivered to the heads of those who partook in the genocide.

Marethari’s touch brought him back to the present. He found himself leaning to it. “I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse. "I shouldn't have lashed out on you..."

Marethari shook her head. “I understand. Even Sarel does. He just have an awful way of showing it." Solas laughs painfully at that. Marethari stroked his cheek, "We both love you, you know that don’t you?”

His throat was too tight to speak so he just nodded.

“Let’s go back inside.”

Solas found himself no longer resisting. All these waves of nostalgia were hitting him hard and he felt bare and weary. Sarel was waiting for them at the porch. Marethari eyed him sternly before addressing Solas once more, “I’ll lead Cole to your room.”

Solas acknowledge her with a nod. Sarel was watching the exchange with his arms crossed to his chest. To anyone, it looked like an aggressive stance but Solas knew him longer. He adopted it whenever he felt insecure. As soon as Marethari and Cole are gone, he spoke. “I don’t like what ye gittin’ yerself into.”

Solas exhaled. He just wanted to lay his head and sleep this night off, but humor him he did, otherwise they would be avoiding one another for years.

“What do you think am I getting into?

“I know ye, Solas. I raised ye. I taught ye all I know.” Sarel laid his hand on his shoulder. It was wrinkled and gnarly. Had it always been so? Solas looked up to him and, gods, he looked tired, too. How come he didn’t see it before?

Sarel breathed out and his stance softened. His next words were the closest thing to an apology he would get, “Don’t think me a fool, son”

Solas blinked and stared at his eyes. They were deep brown still sharp and full of worry.

And not for the first time, Solas wondered: how much did he truly know?

-0-

In the morning, Solas met with the Park Rangers.

Trapping and hunting was the traditional livelihood in the Frostback ranges. The knowledge was passed down from father to son. Sarel had taught Solas as well, though it had been years since he last put his skills to the test.

Something he needed to amend.

Tamlen was the older of the two men, an experienced hunter at the age of 24. He stopped hunting sables in favor of hunting poachers. His partner, Cammen was young but what he lacked in experience he made up for his skill as a translator.

Avvar tribes often wander north of their Basin and for mutual co-habitation in the range, a program for cultural exchanged was established. The Frostback may be a part of Ferelden jurisdiction, but they had their own particular set of rules. The Crown and its government were nothing more than vague abstraction. As far as the mountain folks were concerned, Ferelden may as well be squatting in the Fade.

They shook hands. Tamlen was a stoic man, lean and fit. Cammen was the burlier of the two. They dressed in their heavy winter clothes.

There were short inquiries about his business. What sort of documentator he was and what did he want from them. Solas answered them all concisely. He showed them his papers, explaining he is a wild-life photographer from _Vir Adahlen,_ a cultural magazine whose interests were held by the  _Eluvian Enterprises_. He only wanted an evidence of the continuing existence of the Great Arbor White Wolf.

Many stories surrounded the creature, and most of them were reverential. It was the apex predator of the alp. A symbol of danger and destruction. Avvars practice air burial - sometimes referred to by historians as sky burial - by dismembering their dead and offering them to their goddess. When the birds come, the soul was then carried to the Lady of the Skies -  their ideal afterlife. But there were times that it was not the Lady's messengers who guided the body to the afterlife. The White Ghost, as the tribesman of Stone-Bear Hold once told, ate the body and stole the soul of their dishonorable dead and forever shackled them to the ground, far from eternal rest.

The local elven had another name for the creature. They call it  _Mythallen -_ Child of vengeance.

Avvar and elven beliefs often diverged but they do agree in one thing: being eaten by the predator was a sign of divine justice.

Cammen told him the same thing Sarel said that night, that the specie _Canis lupus arborum_ no longer existed and the rumors could be nothing more than hopeful whispers. Their fathers had seen the last of its kind back in ’58 and it was shot dead for wandering too close to populated area.

Solas kept his own childhood knowledge for himself. Still, he said to them, there was a rumor and as far as the people at _Vir Adahlen_ were concerned _,_ it was worth investigating. The two rangers shrugged. Solas knew the lie was convincing. The hefty tip helped too.

The Rangers’ plan was simple: they would trek as far as the foot of _Tarasyl’an Te’las –_ the highest peak of the Frostback. They would monitor wolf presence by checking for sign along a grid of trails. In total, they expect a five days trip. Cammen said, if they want to pursue further, Solas must first ingratiate himself with the Avvar tribes, for south of _Tarasyl’an Te’las_ lies their territory and they’re very protective of it.

But it was southward of the peak, for several miles down slope, near Lake Havard lay his true objective.

Justinia Divine must die during the Satinalia celebration she held annually at Skyhold Manor.

That gave him a month to approximately prepare. It was longer preparation time than he usually took. A reconnaissance in the wilderness as untamed as the Winter Mountains came with a tangle of complications, Solas must ensure that he could make it in and out with as little hassle as possible. If none of the officials could get to him, if he was careless, the Frostback surely would. He needed to relearn his childhood lessons.

“Your last name, Talas.” Tamlen spoke up. “You’re Sarel’s son?”

“Yes. You know of him?”

“Small town, yea?" he grunted as he tugged the ropes that secured their supplies. "Mamae told me he was with pops during the Dalish Civil War. Fightin’ for the Crown as part of the elite scouts, the Night Elves. Pops' war wounds got to him, though. I wasn’t even born when he passed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Tamlen just shrugged, he was silent since.

The three of them suited up for most of the morning. Solas had forgotten the cruel cold and had to wear all the warm clothing he had brought with him plus more. By the end of it all, he felt and moved like a straw man. The simple necessity of pissing would surely become an utmost challenge.

They boarded the Rangers’ snowmobile, piled with all their supplies needed for the trip: can goods, sleeping bags, moonshine and extra gas all covered in a canvas tarp. Solas checked his camera, lenses and his radio. No signal up top except for satellite. He brought extra batteries too.

Before he left, he waved at Marethari and Cole, warm and comfortable inside the Ranger’s cabin. Arianne, the woman Marethari kept pushing on him, gave the two a pair of hot cocoa. Sarel and Marethari had agreed to watch Cole over for him instead of the one he had hired had they stayed in the lodge.

Now that he thought about it, he was glad he paid them a visit. It has been too long since they talked. After the disastrous events during his college years – the same events that propelled him to his current career – he had never returned home. Brief obligatory calls, here and there, was the only communications they have had. He was on the move so much and living a second life, let’s just say, wasn’t very conducive to close relationships.

He smiled as he watched Cole draw figures in the glass pane. He looked happy. A change from the constant move from one dispassionate place to the next had done him wonders. He was thankful, that whatever shortcomings he had with Marethari, she cared for Cole as she had once cared for him when he was a child. He wished he could have brought him here sooner.

“Ready?” Cammen called out to him.

Solas pulled the balaclava down his face followed by the ugly hat with the oversized ear flaps and then set his goggles straight. He gave a thumbs up. The snowmobile roared to life.

Cole waved excitedly at him.

Solas waved back.

As soon as they moved, Solas realized that the term 'windchill' was too tame a word to describe the devilish icicles that battered them. He groaned inwardly. This would be the most uncomfortable five days of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it refreshing to see Solas be addressed as someone's child and be recipient of the term da'len. For a change.


	4. Cat and Compassion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YAASS!!
> 
> Update schedule: I'll try to meet a monthly deadline. I'm juggling two fics (+ real life) so everything can be slow. 
> 
> A/N: Got rid of the 10 chapter limit since the story might surpass it but not much. The goal is to finish it so, limitation is good. Will revamp some of the earlier chapters since I'm still figuring out the political shenanigans of this alternate Thedas. I'll post a note on new chapters if there are changes. I'll do my best to keep it at a minimum.
> 
> Thanks again for the kudos and comments!

They ran to the apartment building, two steps at a time. Ellana leaned onto the wall near the doorframe, ears listening in. There was a shuffle of activity on the other side. Unhurried. She posed beside Officer Thom Rainier, precisely at his 8’o clock, gun raised high and aimed at the door.

And whoever it was behind it.

Rainier inclined his head in signal. _3…2…1…_ He shot the doorknob and kicked and the door banged open. Shock and awe.

Ellana deftly moved forward and yelled, **_“HPD, hands over your head! NOW!”_**

A man took his gun out but Ellana was quicker. She shot his arm and the metal cluttered to the floor. Another was fumbling for his weapon and Ellana incapacitated him with a knee shot. A woman screamed cradling a wailing baby. Ellana moved towards the woman and ordered her, **_“DOWN! DOWN!”_**

She obeyed, huddling on top of the wailing child. Both police officers cleared the apartment methodically, moving from room to room. Rainier took out another assailant at the kitchen. Ellana checked one room then the other while Rainier did the same, sweeping every visible meter clean and yelling, “CLEAR!” before moving on.

They finally came to the last door, a bathroom. Rainier hand signaled, _cover me._

Before they could breach through, they heard a crash. _Damn it!_ Rainier kicked the door open and indeed, one of the glass windows were broken through. The last suspect ran off.

Ellana quickly gazed through one of the apartment windows and true enough, she saw an elven man limping from the impact of a two-storey jump as he shuffled across the street. Ellana saw an emergency stairway outside and she ducked low, passing through the open window, “I’ll follow him, call back-up to intercept him at 38th. He’ll try to lose us downtown.”

It didn’t take long for Rainier to understand what she meant. He called after her, “Shouldn’t I be the one to chase him?!”

But Ellana was already on her way, “Maker knows I run faster than you!”

Ellana heard him curse as she slid off the emergency ladder, jumping off before reaching its last wring. She rolled off the impact as she hit solid ground. Within record time, she was running.

She turned to her left; the suspect was three blocks ahead of her. Incoming of body traffic made it hard for her to pass through. _Shit!_ She took her gun out and waved it in the air.

“ ** _Police!_** Get out of the way!”

There were yelps as she pushed herself forward. The suspect looked back to her and started to panic, unseeing of the incoming bicycle at the corner of the street. There was a loud crash and he flew forward, tripping on the mass of the falling cyclist.

Ellana caught up. She tried to pull at him and roll him on his back, cuff links at the ready. She eyed the struggling cyclist briefly, “Y’okay?”

The man grunted and gave a nod.

The suspect took this brief opportunity to wrestle her. Surprised, she let go. He gave a few swings and kicks. Ellana played defensively; throwing several punches herself. He blocked her effectively and finally, elbowed her to the nose. Hard. Blood gushed out and Ellana was momentarily blinded by pain.

He started to take off once more but with quick reflex, Ellana ran and tackled him with all her weight. They tumbled onto the paved floor in the middle od the intersection. Cars honked in alarm. He started to struggle but she jabbed him to the liver and the man crumpled like paper.

She got her cuff links once more and kneeled at his spine, quite bit more forceful than was necessary. “You’re under arrest, _jackass._ ”

“Just tryn’a…make a livin’, Offisah… _ah!_ ” he grunted as Ellana tightened just a bit. A very uncomfortable bit. Still he smirked. “ _Ugh…_ You know how it is, being a knife-ear yasself?”

“Nope, I really don’t,” she said grunting as she rolled him up, “You know your rights; I suggest you save whatever you want to say to the DA.”

At that time, Rainier caught up with them with their patrol car. He got out quickly and dragged the felon by the other shoulder. She let Rainier escort the man to the car, pushing his head down before shoving him in and slammed the door. He eyed her all over, “Damn, you alright there Lavellan?”

“Yea, it’s nothing.”

“Better let Adan see to that.”

She got in the front seat. “Just drive, Rainier.”

The ride was quiet back to the Haven Police Department. Ellana headed straight to the infirmary and let Adan prescribe a painkiller and cold compress before heading back to her desk. Paper works won’t write themselves after all. Rainier greeted her when she walked right through the door.

Ellana scowled as he followed her stride, “No one told us they were armed and numbered.”

“It was supposed to be a simple arrest, not a gun-banging show. Drug Enforcer’s should have been more thorough in their report. They could have sent more than just us.” Rainier looked her over, “How’s the nose.”

She snorted. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, she could still taste her blood at the back of her throat. She pulled the aluminum folding chair and sat, “I’m not injured enough not to do my job.”

“Good, here’s something less physically threatening.” Rainier dropped a folder of paperwork on her table.

“Shit, Thom,” she massaged her temple exaggeratedly, “Now, I think I have a migraine!”

“Haha! Nice try. Told you I should be the one chasing him.”

“I caught the bad guy, cut me some slack!”

“That’s your hero’s welcome. I’ve got my own,” he raised a thick volume of paper as he disappeared to the corridor, laughing.

Ellana grumbled and read the first of many papers. She eyed the clock, it read 2:47pm. _Shit!_ She’d be stuck to the desk for some time. She groaned as she sat straighter, picking up her pen and booting up the computer. But before she could begin, a knock on her cubicle made her look up.

“Officer Lavellan,” Sargent Ashkaari Hissrad rumbled, popularly known as _The Iron Bull_ , was a giant of a man, even by kossith standards. “Deputy wants to see you.”

Ellana gulped and stood up. “Must be pretty important if he’s sending the Bull to fetch me.”

The Iron Bull patted her shoulder and she stumbled a bit. She could swear the man didn’t even realize how strong he was.

“Relax, kid. I put in a good recommendation for you,” was what he coyly said as he pushed her forward to the Deputy’s office.

“R-Recommendation?” She echoed nervously.

The Sargent was annoyingly enigmatic with his toothy grin and two thumbs up, “Go slaaay that dragon!”

Cheery guy, that. Ellana’s heart was on her throat. If this was what she thought it was, she was going to faint. The bold black letters on the door read:

**Chief D** **eputy**

**Garrett Hawke**

She knocked at the glass pane twice.

“Come in,” came Deputy Hawke’s muffled reply.

Ellana twisted the knob and entered. “You wanted to see me?”

Garret Hawke looked up, “Ah, yes. Please have a sit, Officer Lavellan.” He began stacking papers neatly before laying them aside. “I hope you know why I called you here?”

“About my future assignments, if I’d wager a guess, sir.”

Hawke nodded, “I have reviewed your profile as well as recommendations from both Sargent Hissrad and from Detective Grey, as well as your field report from your Senior Officer Rainier. And after much deliberation, I’ve come to a conclusion. I’d like to promote you for the STF.”

 _Special Taskforce Team…_ “Sir?”

“They all laud your quick-thinking on the field and your ability to remain focused even at strenuous situations. That is a rare quality,” he shuffled another paper from her profile, “You have impressive marksmanship skills. Ability to carry out commands tactically and adapt to improvised solutions on the spot. You have a lot of potential,” he looked up and raised a brow. Pleased. “I believe this new challenge can push you to even greater heights.”

_No…she wanted to be like Duncan. A detective._

“There must be something wrong here, sir. I –”

Hawke closed the folder, “You think there is something wrong with their assessment?”

“No, sir! I just….” Ellana drifted off.

“You wanted to be a detective," he said after a pause

Ellana sat straighter.

He eyed her long before leaning back, the leather upholstery squeaking beneath his weight, “Detective work is not for you.”

Her world crashed.

“Your martial skills will be wasted. And Lavellan, you do have talent.” Hawke continued. “You will be an asset to the STF.”

Ellana swallowed, “…Then, I am honored, sir.”

-0-

At 5:00pm, Ellana returned home, dejected. She clamped her bike’s lock by the steel railway and proceeded to her apartment. She checked her mail. Bills and ads came pouring out and she tucked them under her armpit. The tub of ice cream she bought on the way home is starting to perspire under the brown paper its plastic container was wrapped on. She just wants to sit in front of her TV and be miserable.

She opens her room only to find Ser Pounce made a mess. Her couch was ripped in places, her glass decorations scattered into a million pieces on the floor. She saw the cat, meowing innocently on her window beside her shredded curtain. Ellana approached it, fuming inside. The cat senses her anger and bolted. The door was ajar and he fled. _Dammit, Anders! I’m going to wring your neck for this!_

Ellana ran off to catch him, but Ser Pounce was fast. It leaped to a protrusion inside the hallway and refused to jump down. “Come here, kitty! Come.”

Ser Pounce just watched her and mewled.

“Come on, Pounce…” she tried to be gentle but Pounce just stares,” Godsdamn you, you furry little devil! **_Come on!_** ”

Now the damnable cat stared at her haughtily. _Shit, shit!_ Ellana doesn’t have the time or patience for this. She looked around and thought of attracting the fat tabby with food. She hurriedly went back to her room and took its box of kibble by the drawer and ran back outside. She stopped short before running over a boy.

“Oh, shit I didn’t see you there! Sorry –”

The boy was standing just below the Ser Pounce. He looked at her wide-eyed. He looked familiar. Her tired brain tried to connect a name to the face… _Oh, wait. I remember. The boy from the Laundromat!_

His attention drifted back to the tabby by the wall. Ellana shakes the box and the little pellets shook inside, Ser Pounce eyed her with feigned interest.

“Here kitty cat, you’re hungry ain’t you?” But still the cat didn’t move. She turned to the boy and grimaced, “You don’t happen to know about rescuing cats, do you?”

It was a rhetorical question but the boy’s eyes glowed. He smiled.

And ran off.

His apartment door slammed shut.

_Great. A little sympathy here, please!_

Without a minute had passed, the boy got out once more, carrying things around his arms: a broom, a box and rolls of masking tape. He quietly put them down and began assembling them together. At the end of the broom, he attached the small box and rolled the tape securely all-over it. He tested its strength by pulling and when he was satisfied that the box was tight and all, he looked up to her and beamed.

He raised it; box first, towards the cat. At first Ser Pounce was unresponsive but after a while of swinging the damned thing its head started to rise and followed its sway. Ser Pounce wiggled excitedly on his hunches and in a moment of pure hope, Ellana saw the cat jumped straight into the box.

“YES!” she squealed as the boy slowly lowered it. Ellana peered inside and sure enough the spoiled tabby was lying comfortably on its new spot. Ellana turned to the boy, “How did you know to that?”

He just smiled.

Ellana smiled back. After a moment of silence, she asked, “So, what’s your name, kid?”

“Cole.”

“Nice to meet you Cole, I’m Ellana. We’ve met before, yea? In the Laundromat, with your dad?”

Cole blinked and says, “Nana.”

“Sorry?”

He points at himself, “Cole,” then at her, “…Nana?”

_Oh, her name. Right._

“Yep, that’s me. Ellana. Nana,” she looks around. “So, where’s your dad?”

“Out.”

Ellana ignored the fact that she felt disappointed with that. _Oh, well._ She looks at Cole then at the box where Ser Pounce lay. The stupid creature looked so comfy and satisfied. “Hey, do you want some ice cream?”

Cole nodded enthusiastically. Ellana laughs and offered her hand. The boy took it without hesitation. _This kid needs to learn not to be too trusting of strangers_. He looked at her adorably behind his large hat. She smiled toothily _…Perhaps, a lesson reserved for another day._

-0-

Solas drove back after a quick visit from the grocery. It’s been a week since he returned from his little mountain trip. Of course, as expected there were no sights of the Arbor wolf. He sent his report and a couple of good shots of other faunas and grand vistas to the publisher at Vir Adahlen, they may be able to make use of it. It’s a sham of a job but still, he was still paid to do it and Solas dislike not meeting his end of the bargain.

Pamphlets lay scattered at the front seat of his car. Real estate offers and rent-to-own apartments. He had reviewed them all. The one nearest to a special school had caught his interest. Haven is not a bad place to start anew. It has an added bonus that it is considerably close to Herald’s Rest. Marethari, and even Sarel, had grown on Cole. He smiled at the thought.

He parked and took his groceries up to the apartment. He balanced the paper bag on one arm as he fished for the keys in his pocket. A sound on the other end of the door made his heart stop. There were voices inside, muffled and unrecognizable. Panic settled in his guts. Only one thought was clear: Cole.

Solas’ vision narrows. Predatorial instincts kicked in and he softly put down the paper bag on the floor and untucked the knife wrapped around his foreleg and hidden by his trousers.

He pushed the key into the keyhole, turning it slowly to ensure minimum noise. Parting the door delicately, he holds onto the knife loosely with his other hand, senses on high alert as his eyes adjusted to the apartment.

Walking quietly, he followed the source of the voice, knife posed at the ready behind his back. He could see the edge of Cole’s tent, a light emitting from within.

“…I got you now! I won’t let you get away!”

Solas heard Cole squealed.

Someone bursts out, a blanket draped all over their head. “Rawr! Mighty Dumat will devour you…–”

Then their eyes met. A gasp and Solas stuttered in his steps.

The blanket fell.

Pink skin framed by cascading brown hair touched her shoulders in soft, swirling tufts. Dark eyes bore through him; her perfect bow lips, parted in surprise. Her silhouette haloed by the traffic lights outside the window. She was an ethereal figure; some sort of lofty spirit deigning him with her rare and enchanting presence.

Then a ferocious glint lighted her gaze.

She dove to the side, surprised by her reaction Solas momentarily blanked. Then something flew over him. Thanks to the years of honing his reflex, he managed to duck in time. The object shattered at the wall behind him. Any normal man would have been distracted by the loud crash. But not Solas.

He saw her coming as she sprint to him, his own lamp-shade at hand, she swept it sideways. The slash of air ruffled his scarf as he stepped back. It was aimed high enough to know it was directed to his head.

He made a split second decision.

Solas dropped his knife. Its tip dug to his carpeted floor. He didn’t wish to harm her. An odd thing if he had time to think.

He stepped back in time to dodge another of her blow. She was fast but he was faster. He caught her arm as her momentum ebbed; Solas followed its flow, using her own weight to turn her around. She got wind of that and tried to outmaneuver him by using her other arm to elbow him. But she was too late to do anything as her own momentum was stacked against her. He twisted the caught limb at her back till she dropped the lamp. She yelped as she kneeled in pained surprise.

She twisted her head to snarl at him. Flushed and angered, Solas found her a pretty sight. _She looks vaguely familiar…_

Ah! It was his neighbor.

She took his distraction as an opportunity. She kicked his shins, hard. Solas grunted but didn't let go. In one graceful, almost feline maneuver, she swerved her body towards him, wrapping her arms around the edges of his scarf as she did a reversal. Her knees connected to his stomach and his air momentarily cut off. She twisted the arm he had a grip on and freed herself. All the while, she rolled him on his back. In his daze, she had locked him completely under her, her breath a warm puff on his cheeks. She must have found his knife since she had it aimed at him. His body pinned down with hers.

“Nana!” Solas heard Cole gasped.

“Get back, Cole!” she said never losing him on her sight. Dark eyes glinting like opulent wine, “You picked the wrong room, fool.”

_She's defending Cole against him!_

Solas coughed beneath his thick scarf. His body felt warmer than it should be. “…Apparently not, considering I live here.”

Her brows furrowed. Solas saw precisely when it all clicked.

“OH, MY GOD!” she scrambled off of him. Solas quickly untangled himself from his scarf’s chokehold and sat up, draping the wrap on the nearby sofa. Her chest was heaving as she looked at him in terrified embarrassment, “Oh, my god. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” her embarrassment quickly shifted to irritation. “Why in the Void are you dressed like that?! I thought you were a _burglar!_ ”

“Excuse me?” Solas looked down at his black turtle-neck and black jeans with his black beanie and his black… _I think I can see where she is coming from._

Her face was flushed prettily. She was holding her hand to hold off her labored breath. A light perspiration shone just between the valleys peaking at the collar of her tight camisole. Her loose cardigan was skewed showing off the sloped of her graceful shoulders. Even her baggy sweat-pants couldn’t hide the tone legs beneath, not when its strength barreled him a while ago.

“I didn’t pay much attention to fashion, considering…” Solas sniffed as he stood. He moaned quietly as he tried to straighten, stretching his now bruising abdomen. “…I never expected to be assaulted in my own home.”

Nana came forward reflexively, his own knife waving dangerously close to him, “Watch it!” he called out alarmed.

She blushes as she deposited the thing by his kitchen counter. “Sorry! I –” she paused, eyeing the thing. It was a military issue and Solas could tell that she recognized the impeccable craftsmanship. “Damn, this is quite a combat knife you got here. Were you in the military?” She looks at him expectantly.

His mind drifted to Sarel.

“My…father was.” Solas turns and opens the light. Warm LED filled the apartment. He picks up his grocery, kneeling instead of bending over. Damn, he felt like he was kicked by a goddamn wild halla. He felt a hand grasped the bag away. Cole was looking at him worriedly. Solas plastered a smile, “Thank you.”

The woman, Nana, was standing awkwardly near the counter, rolling her palms on the edges of her cardigan. “I – I think I should be going now. I’m truly sorry for what happened. I’ll pay for your lamp!” she became even redder at the glistening sight of broken glass. "...the mug, too..."

Solas waved her concern. “That is not necessary.”

Cole poked his head behind the refrigerator, “No, Nana. Stay.” He was pouting! “Game over…” he made a motion with his fingers, telling her she could leave after they finish their disrupted game.

Nana flit her eyes to him then back at Cole, “I don’t think –”

“Have you had dinner?” Solas interrupted. He was helping Cole in making new friends, he reasoned. _Really, now..._ he shushed his insidious mind.

She eyed him owlishly, “What?”

“Dinner!” Cole exclaimed excitedly, spreading his arms and making puffing sound. Solas watched him as he grabbed a box of cat food? and poured it down a cardboard box. It was followed by enthusiastic scratches and meow-ing. Cole was cooing in return. Solas blinked.

“Sorry, again.” Nana came into his view. “…It’s a friend’s, really. Your kid sort of helped me with a particular problem and we kinda… you know, hang out? With the cat, too.”

Cole pulled out a rather oversized tabby and immediately carried it around like a baby. Admittedly, the sight is heart-warming. Not that he’d participate. The idea of its furs on his sweater sounds like a devious workload. And he dislikes cats.

“So, you will have dinner with us?” he asked Nana once more.

She grins sheepishly, “Do you make a habit of feeding people who kicks your ass and destroys your property?”

Solas does appreciate the fact that she did all that as a response to protect Cole. _Of course, her weight on him does feel...pleasant._

He turns to the kitchen. She doesn’t see him flush, “Only if they did a stellar job at it.”

Her laughter was like a tinkling spring. “My name’s Ellana, by the way. I don’t think I got yours?”

“You can call me Solas,” he dons his white apron with a painted picture of a disproportionate wolf. Cole’s handicraft. “Does salmon sound good?”

“I’ll _wolf_ down anything,” she beamed. Solas raised a brow at the pun and returned her playful smile. He began pre-heating the oven as he set up the fillet and preparing its flavoring. He works on the side dishes efficiently. Nana – _Ellana –_ sat at the counter and watches him quietly.

Cole – with the cat still on his arms – pulled her hand and proclaimed, “Challenge!”

“No, Cole. You may return to your game only after dinner,” Solas said.

The young boy pleaded with his puppy eyes to Ellana. She pinches his cheeks, laughing, “His house, buddy. His rules.” Cole just huffed and puffed. “…Afterwards… _Dumat will devour you!_ ” and she began to tickle him.

Cole squealed cheerfully as he ran away, excited with his future prospect. Solas was watching their interaction with interest. “He likes you.”

Ellana shrugs.

“Are you always this good with children?”

“I have a lot of cousins. So yea, I’ve had a lot of experience.” She watches Cole with a smile. Solas won’t admit it to himself yet but he knew that kind look endeared her to him.

“Did you raise him all on your own?”

“Since he was eight. His parents…died. He has no one else.” _An orphan. Just like him._

She gazes at him. It was difficult to read her expression, “That’s good of you.”

_Not really._

But the oven dings and the moment lost its hold. Solas busied himself with finishing the meal. Cole dropped the cat back to its box where it miraculously stayed. They finished their dinner, albeit slower than when it was just Cole and him. Playful banters dotted their gathering, with Solas just watching contentedly on the sides. It was mostly about the card game they played based on the Tevinter mythos, the cat he learned was called Ser Pounce-a-lot – ridiculous and mouthful – and a movie they seem to have watched when he was out.

Solas was suddenly struck how very…domestic it was.

Ellana stayed a while longer, indulging Cole and his whims. Solas gave them their space and proceeded to work on his laptop in his bedroom. He took off his sweater and beanie and was left with a plain t-shirt. The door was left ajar so he could make himself available should they need anything and at the same time retain a sliver of privacy.

He kept none of his Dread Wolf paraphernalia in his residence as much as possible. He rents a separate storage for that. He does have a handgun or two hidden somewhere and a sub-machine gun in this very bedroom – for emergencies. There’s also one in his car. Even in his person. Though, he often defaults to his knife first. It’s less suspicious to have around, less likely to draw out questions, unlike a .45 cal handgun with a suppressor.

It was late into evening when he heard a light tap on the door frame. Solas looks up from his photo editing and found Ellana standing at his bedroom door. His watch says 23:12. He rubs his eyes tiredly, “Is he asleep?”

“Yes.” Her eyes wandered around his room. It is sparsely decorated; a simple faux-wood cabinet, one night-table with a lamp, his small workspace – a desk with drawers and a small shelf for a select of books, and a twin-sized bed all in plain white sheets. When her eyes fell on him, he felt strangely self-conscious. He can’t remember the last time there was a woman’s presence in his room… He halted his thoughts. _Don’t go there, Solas._

“Anyway, I just came here to say good night,” she continued, blissfully unaware of the temperatures rising in his body. “And to thank you for the dinner. It was really delicious.”

“You are welcome.”

Silence descended.

“So…”

“So –”

Ellana laughs, “Go ahead.”

Solas parts his lips and closes it, shaking his head lightly, “I…I wish you good night.” He mentally slaps himself. _Idiot._

“Yeah, yeah…Good night.” She breathes out. “I’ll see myself off.”

Solas stands abruptly that his folding chair almost fell. He caught it before it embarrassed him even more. Ellana was smiling at him. He cleared his throat, “I will…see you out.”

“That would be nice.”

And so he escorted her to the short distance to his front door. Their soft soles barely stirred the sleeping Cole inside his tent. Ellana picked up the box where the also sleeping cat lay. At the hallway, Ellana took out her keys and after a couple tries, it was Solas who managed to open it.

“Thanks. Again.”

“My pleasure,” he flushed slightly at his own choice of words.

Ellana nodded shyly. “It was…nice meeting you.”

“Indeed. It was nice.”

Solas was briefly aware that he is standing at the hall outside of her apartment door bare-footed. To an onlooker, he might have looked like some besotted fool. _Perhaps, I am._ He shooks his head clear. He’s too old to believe in _romance._ Even the word made him cringe.

“Good night, Ellana.” He says finally, turning back to his apartment.

“Solas.”

He turns. Ellana was biting her lower lip, looking hot and undecided. He paused...processing what he just thought. _God, he must be really tired._

“Would you like to grab some drinks with me some time? My treat.”

Solas replied automatically. “Of course.”

He felt himself blush at how eager he sounded.

“Great.” She beams at him once more. She was flushing as she looked down before closing her door.

Solas won’t admit that he spent a time smiling foolishly as he stared at the gilded number ‘304'.

 


	5. Man, Monster and Myth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting the pieces on the board...

The temperature drops as Firstfall was beginning to settle in.

Solas hunkers on his sofa. Alone, the apartment was quiet. It is still too early, 5:18am by his watch. His thumb ghosts atop the glowing white screen, a name written in bold black. He taps the green icon and it was soon followed by a distant sound of ringing. _Brrr…Brrr. Brr…Brrr…_

He watches the screen as minutes passed by. _It is still too early._ Solas could always call at a later time. He exhales and was about to drop the phone when the static voice answered _. 'Hello?'_

Surprised, Solas stuttered, “H-Hello? Mari?”

 _'Da’len!_  'There was a distant shuffle then a break, followed by light gust of breath and Marethari got a hold of her phone once more. Solas imagined her tirelessly fiddling at the old phone cord that infinitely tangles. ' _It's good to hear from you.'_

“Yes, it is good to hear from you as well. How is everyone?”

_'Cole is settling nicely. He was looking for you two nights ago but he has calmed down now. I read him that old story you adored as a child. He likes it, too.'_

“That’s good to hear…” Solas smiled but it died just as quickly, “…the arrangement will only be for a few weeks.”

 _'Cole is a marvel.'_ She laughed _, 'And you worry too much.'_

Solas pinched his nose. “It’s not that…I’m not exactly _worried_ …” He plucks at the lint on his trousers. The anxiety that clawed its way on his stomach doesn’t fade away. There are too much at stake. The mission – _his last mission –_ felt like nothing he ever felt before. He was giddy, elated and agitated all at once. He stands up and paces, biting the edges of his fingers. He needs this solitude to plan. He needs his focus back. This call is a distraction. But…“…I just wanted to hear….” _To be reassured._

The end was drawing closer than he had expected. Three weeks at most till the Satinalia gala. Three weeks more to freedom…

One way or the other.

He wiped at his face vigorously. Where did this grim fatality come from? He had never once failed on any assignments the Evanuris had given him. Not once.

So why doubt himself now?

 _They will sooner kill you than let you go…_ Felassan’s words hung on his head like the proverbial sword.

 _Mythal promised,_ Solas repeated in his head. _She promised._

But what the rest of the Evanuris thinks is still an unknown. Will they honor her promise to him? Or will they deem him still a valuable asset? Or a loose end?

The breathing on the other end of the line called him back to reality. ' _Everything is good on our end, da’len. Go and nail that job.'_ Marithari soothes.

She wouldn’t be so glib if she truly knew what his ‘job’ entailed. Solas closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Yes, I will. Thank you, Mari.”

 _'Of course, da’len. We are here for you.'_ A beat passed. _'Always.'_

“ _Dareth’shiral_.” 

_Safe journey_

Formal Elvhen was never used in their household. Sarel nor Marethari paid little importance to the preservation of Elvhen traditions. It was one of the things that caused friction in their relationship. As for the language, only a few words had survived, integrating to modern Common. But for now, the word’s meaning was appropriate to what lies ahead. To all of them. Solas is not foolish enough to believe that whatever decisions he had made would affect only him. The ripple will expand. He only hopes that it would not generate into an all-consuming whirlpool.

There was a pregnant pause before Marethari replied.

_'…Dareth’shiral.'_

Click.

Solas leaned his head back and sighed. Moving his finger at the touchpad of his laptop, it shone to life. A new email was waiting to be read.

_The shipment just arrived. Come meet me at the usual spot at 15:00._

_-B.F._

He has the whole morning to himself. Solas grabs a bottle of bourbon and poured anew on his glass. He moves the cursor with his index finger and clicked on the profile of Justinia Divine once more. The pixelated eyes stared back at him.

He swirled the amber liquid in the glass. There is an appropriate word in Elvhen for this moment, too: _din’anshiral._ There is only death at the end of this journey. His grip tightened.

Solas took his shot.

 

\--

 

Ellana stretched at her chair as she waited for the browser to load. Her trainings in preparation for the STF were scheduled twice a week. Otherwise, her old role in the precinct still stands. Of course, there were still exams she needed to pass. And if she did get in, she’d be on service 24/7 for the rest of 365 days with additional hours of killer training. Yay.

But a wave of pride settled in her chest.

Haven Special Task Force was very competitive much like in other Arlings. Men and women take on the same physical, mental and psychological testing. If she passed, she’d be one of the two women on the group. She can’t wait to work beside Lt. Aveline Valen. Not to mention, she’d be the fifth elf in the history of Haven STF and would be the first elven woman, maybe ever, in the history of para-military police force.

She grinned to herself.

The monitor screen blinked, showing its initial results. Ellana scrolled down looking for anything she could know of her neighbor. There was…something about him. She can’t deny that she was attracted to him at first glance. And the fluidity of his movements as he countered her… Well, it was impressive. And hot. And, goddamn if it didn’t make her flush all over. There was strength in his grip and she imagined if that strength can be utilize for something more _enjoyable_ …

_Ugh! Maker. She should really stop drooling at the man._

It’s been three days since she last had dinner with him and Cole. Lovely as Cole is, she was truly relieved to hear he was not his own. No mother possibly means he had no wife. Or any other woman with her nails on him. It was a petty thing to think of but Ellana appreciates as little complication to her... _ahem..._ prospective romantic affiliation as possible. Considering her last relationships, no one can fault her for that, surely.

Ellana narrowed her eyes on the screen.

She feels the need to learn more about him. Go into this - whatever this is - prepared. Informed. Ellana read every possible profile that pops up. She didn’t catch his last name which makes this trickier than usual. So far, her research was fruitless. Now she worried about what she should do. Like, she did ask the man out.

Or at least, gave him a head’s up she’s about to. Rather impulsively if one might add. She wanted to bang her head on the desk.  _Idiot!_

Ellana implored the screen to give her something... _anything._

_Solas Revasan… Solas Harel… Mordin Solus…_

There was a baker, a painter and a professor. She clicked the profile and found none matched the face. Some pictures of wildlife kept popping up, with links to _Vir Adahlen,_ a famous nature magazine. The name on the watermark was a _Solas Talas._ She tried searching with the name but found no personal photo of the photographer on his professional profile. Ellana let out a frustrating breath. She tried signing in on different social media sites with false information, of course – in the hopes of finding more clues.

Does the man even own a social media account?

“Checking the market, huh?” Ellana squealed in fright as her friend and fellow police officer Lace Harding popped up behind her cubicle. Lace only grinned, “Who’re you checking out? Let me see…?”

Ellana tried and failed to cover the 16” screen and Lace only tutted. “Stalking someone now aren’t we?”

Ellana huffed, letting her arm drop now that she was caught. “I’m just looking…for more information. You can’t be so sure nowadays.” She whirled her seat so her back was to Lace, renewing her search.

“You know, I can help you with that. I can use the system.” Lace offered.

“He is _not_ a criminal.”

Her friend laughs. “You seem to like the notorious _‘bad boys’_.

“That’s not true.”

“No offense, Elle,” Lace started placatingly, “Your last beau wasn’t exactly the paragon of good behavior. Nor the one before that...and before that...”

“Well, the 'smart' and 'charming' _Bram Kenric-_ s are in short supply," She deadpanned at her friend. Lace only rolled her eyes. "And Samson was a bad choice, I admit.”

Lace crossed her arms and leaned on the edge of the cubicle, eyeing her flatly. “Uh-huh.”

“And Carroll was part of the DE Department, how would I know he’s a drug trafficker himself?”

“Well, how can you justify dating Denam or Imshael – ”

Ellana jumped forward and clamped her hand on her friend’s mouth, “Okay! Okay! I get it, now shut it!”

Harding pushed her off and laughed. Ellana was still flushed. The dwarven woman grabbed the nearby chair by Jim’s cubicle and sat on it, elbows huddled on its backrest as she cradled her head on one hand. “Spill, where did you two meet?”

“Who said we’ve met?”

“First name basis?” Lace retorted. Ellana huffed.

“Fine, he’s my…neighbor.”

Lace merely raised an interested brow. She pushed forward and eyed the name on the search engine. “Any luck yet?”

“No, I’m still looking.”

“Let me.”

Lace took Jim’s laptop. It was a communal one, given by the Department to their officers, much like Ellana’s desktop. She logged Jim out and used her user ID to log in to their server. She was the department’s IT and knows her away around all the tech-y stuff. Ellana was surprised to see new results that weren’t previously present in her fumbling attempts. They checked everything one-by-one. It has taken them a lot of time. Granted, it was faster now that Harding was here helping her out.

“Lace, Sargent might get pissy if he finds you here.”

“Bull? Nah, I’m done for the day anyway. He’s got nothing to complain.” She dismisses and grinned at Ellana. “Besides, this is much more fun.”

They listed the different names of possible leads on a piece of paper and searched them individually, striking out those who didn’t match Ellana’s description.

“’ _Of Gods: Man, Monster and Myth’._ There is a Solas Talas here along with other research assistants and an Associate Professor named Lisell Halas. Suledin University Publications. Does that sound like your boyfriend?”

Ellana leaned closer to read the article, “…I don’t know. And he’s not my _boyfriend._ ”

“Not yet, maybe.”

She playfully slapped Lace’s shoulder, “Just click the damn thing, alright. Maybe we can see some pictures.”

There were none. It was one of those typical dull reference site. Of course.

Lace clicked the ‘images’ tab and began scrolling with the keywords: DR. LISELL HALAS, SOLAS TALAS, SULEDIN UNIVERSITY.

There were several pictures of Dr. Halas. She was a very beautiful elven woman in her 30’s during the time the picture was taken. There were logos of the university, a half-mask with whorl designs on the edges, and splattered along the screen were thumbnails of beautiful images of Theodosian wildlife _._ _Maybe it’s the same photographer from Vir Adahlen._

Then at the second to third pages, they found an old image of Dr. Halas during a speech with a crowd of students carrying large placards: **RETURN THE DALES, NEVER SUBMIT**. The articles glosses over the violence that went on the student strike of ’69. That was 19 years ago. She was so young then but she did remember it having an impact on the alienage where she lived. Impact that can be felt even now.

The Marcher gov’t had cut off support for education in the elven slums, afraid of the rise of radical pro-elven sentiments and the violence it could possibly ensue. Granted, the strike was in Orlais but the actions reverberated all throughout Southern Thedas. Almost all the displaced elves - and a few human institutions - rallied behind the cause. The fear of another civil war was just at the coast. It doesn't excuse the Free Marches Government, but the fear is real. Ellana remembered classmates and friends who simply stopped schooling, unable to continue without gov’t aid.

That was why the CAER institution Ms. Divine had set-up was, and still is, a godsend. Ellana hopes it would continue to flourish and not be another project shut down by prejudice and paranoia. Especially with the whole sensationalisation of this _Dread Wolf_ character.

Maker only knows what kind of deluded psychopath would imagine himself some sort of divine manifestation and kill people with remnants of canine teeth.

As Lace continued to scroll through, another image of the strike caught her eyes. “Wait, Lace. Click that one.”

“This?”

Behind the crowd, a young man was watching the scene with cool sharpness. He was wearing a thick set of dark coat and grey turtleneck; his reddish-brown hair was styled in an undercut with the remaining strands twisted into dreadlocks. The image was a bit blurry but the familiar nose and deep set eyes were too accurate. Granted, the man has hair and is younger. Too young to go to a collegiate university. “I…I think that’s him.”

Lace leaned in to the screen and whistled. “He’s cute alright. Dangerous looking. But cute.” She was smiling amicably but a light pinch of her brow betrayed her. “You haven’t asked him out on a date yet, have you?”

In her grimace, Lace got the answer. She slapped a hand to her face and sighed. “I’ll find more for you. If this guy got some dirt, you’ll be the first to know.”

Ellana pouted, “That sounds ominous.”

“Hey, just making sure my best friend’s safe.” Lace gave a toothy smile. “Anyways, Bram will be here in a couple of days, what do you say to a double-date? I know a place where we can get really good drinks.”

“I thought you disapprove of him.”

“I said _‘if’._ He’ll have to go through due process. I'm not a tyrant.”

Ellana smirked, “Promise me you won’t harass him?”

“What? Cause he has a history of activism?” Lace waved off her hand dismissively, “Pffft, please. Besides, Bram has had a residency in Suledin, too. They do got the idealistic tantrums. You should hear him go off about buckles one time. I swear.”

The idea was not a bad one. Besides, a second opinion of his character wouldn’t hurt, right? She did want to go on a date…

Ellana quirked her lips at her friend. “Fine, I’ll try and ask him.”

 

\--

 

Duncan Grey rounded his old silver sedan as soon as dirt meets asphalt. The long vista of the Arling’s flatlands gave way to the rocky crevices as the fingers of the Frostbacks were artificially parted to accommodate proper track without winding through steep mountain edges. His long drive ends on an elaborate iron gilding that marks the entrance to Skyhold Manor. It was situated atop of a leveled part of the range, surrounded by higher ranges like an elaborate choker, capped with think snow lines. The road was now gaining angle and was constantly cleared to avoid the sleet conquering the only passage route. 

 _Identification please,_ came the disembodied voice.

He took it out of coat pocket and showed it to the camera screen. With a ding, the metal gates opened. He drove onward. He noted the guards standing and patrolling along the ways, their rifle hung at their shoulder on a sling, one hand on the grip and the other on the leash as they lead their guard mabaris along the perimeter.

There were truckloads parked near the entrance. Many people were busy decorating the entire courtyard. Duncan was forced to park his car further down and walk the gravel path. He tightened his hold on his long, tan coat. Skyhold Manor was a large brick wall, complete with parapets, ramparts and balconies. Castle would have been a more apt description. He saw the steward waiting by the entrance, unperturbed by the busy-bodies crossing his surroundings. He seemed to see order amidst the chaos. He gave a perfunctory bow as Duncan came close.

“Mr. Grey, I presume?” Duncan nodded and opened his mouth for a simple greeting but the steward waited for no reply as he led his way. “This way, messere.”

Their footsteps clicked on the marble floor along with the symphony of many busy people. Skyhold was as grand in its interior as it was in its exterior. Wood furniture filled the expansive rooms and halls. Painting of various sizes in gilded frames hung on every available wall. Chandeliers hung low, where once lighted by candles were now exchanged for bulbs. The steward led him around without faltering and finally opens a carved wooden door with colored glass panes. He motioned with his hand.

“Ms. Divine is waiting for you in the greenhouse.”

The steward closes the door behind him. Duncan took a stroll along the narrow aisle covered in all sides with elongated planters and potted plants. There was a rose bush lining up the back end and a lone woman was squatting over it, secateurs in hand, trimming the dead branches. He should have greeted or make a sound, but the sight of her after all these years stilled his tongue.

She was wearing a burgundy poncho made of wool with a plain grey dress beneath, showing off her ankles and a simple dirty-white strap on sandals. Her long cascading white hair knotted loosely behind her back. They were a fiery red once.

Duncan saw her deposit the secateurs and the branches by her basket and she groaned softly as she stood up. She turned halfway and saw him. There was surprise first but recognition settled and she smiled warmly. “Duncan.”

Justinia Divine approached him. Duncan came closer and took her now gloveless hand and gave her cool finger a kiss. They were plain, with no jewel in sight. “Ms. Divine.”

She chuckled. “Please, it is only Justinia in private.”

She led him to a marble set of bench and tables. A warm pot of tea and cakes were served in the finest Orlesian porcelain. Duncan eyed questioningly as he saw three cups instead of only two.

“Have you met my niece, Leliana?” Duncan turns to see a beautiful red-haired woman moved silently out of the shadows of a rose bush. “She is now an agent of the Orlesian Inquisition.”

The Orlesian nation’s premier intelligence agency.

Leliana gave an old fashioned curtsey. “How do you do?”

“Good, Ms. Leliana. A pleasure to meet you.” Duncan gave a short bow in return.

Leliana tittered on their rather theatrical display as she sat on the empty bench. “It is such a good custom. Why did we ever rid of it?”

As the three of them settled, Duncan returned to the true matter at hand: why Justinia had call for this meeting. Duncan cleared his throat.

“As much as I find this gathering pleasant,” he began. “I can’t help but be curious as to the reason for my invitation.”

Justinia sipped her tea and eyed her niece. Leliana’s amiable face schooled to a cool neutral. “Duncan Grey. Former Captain of the Fereldan Warden. A specialist in counterterrorism and unconventional warfare. A veteran of many high-risk covert operations, most notably, in liberating Red Crossing during the Dalish civil war. Now a homicide detective for Haven Police Department, serving loyally for more than two decades.” She cocked her head in mock innocence, “And you prefer your coffee brewed with a tinge of hazelnut.”

The young woman has done her homework. Duncan crossed his arms, his eyes darted between her and Justinia. Leliana smiled.

“Aunt Justinia said we can trust you with the information we are about to share.” Leliana placed her teacup down and continued. “We have received an intel of a possible threat during the gala.”

Duncan stiffened. He watched Justinia for a reaction but the older woman was content to sip her tea in peace. He brought his attention back to Leliana. “I don’t understand. Why not collaborate with the department?”

“Whoever is behind this, we do not wish to alert them to our knowledge.”

“This is the best way to foil their plans and unearth whoever is behind it.” Justina intoned. “Better yet, what they hope to gain from it.”

“And you willingly allow yourself to be bait?” Duncan could feel his anger rise. How typically reckless of her.

Justinia scoffed dismissively, “Death threats are nothing new.”

“And another thing,” Leliana leaned in closer. “Detective, what do you know of _Hanal’ghilan?_ ”

Horror washed him.

_Hanal’ghilan._

He never wanted to hear that word again. Duncan swallowed.

“More than I wish to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get another POV!
> 
> Did anyone caught other fanfic references? 
> 
> A little nod to my other favorite Bioware character from a different planet <3
> 
> Also, a casual drop on a _hiding_ Evanuris hehe. Credit for the idea goes to fellow author [Dorenaergosum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreNaErgoSum/pseuds/DoreNaErgoSum) <3


	6. Beloved and Precious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumped the warning to Explicit, it's short but just in case.
> 
> Also, special thankies to the wonderful DoreNaErgoSum for giving me permission to use her idea regarding the alternative names for the Evanuris! Much love <3

Solas was lying prone on the snow.

Several meters from him, an indiscernible speck on the naked eye, was an apple, propped up on a dead branch.

He inhaled, crisp mountain air filled his lungs, and held them in. Red on his sight, he fired. The shot echoed through the peaks like thunder, dispersing the further it travelled. The apple was nothing more than a pulp in the snow.

He sat up, one knee on his mat as he eyed his new rifle. Manufactured by _Bor’assan_ , it was made especially for arctic conditions. Solas had finally acquired it from Bodahn Feddic, a black market dealer two days ago.

Solas had started hiking as soon as possible.

He’d been diligently training himself to prepare for the weather. The Frostbacks was a cruel mistress to those who do not know how to prepare and predict her. The cold can quickly shift from intense to extreme and even downright hazardous. On foot in the mountains, on an unbroken trail, he’ll need one hour to cover every mile of distance. Add one more hour for every 1,000 feet of ascent or 2,000 feet of descent.

Checking his map, considering the latitudes, visibility as well as wind dynamics, he had chosen a good spot along the many ranges. He’ll be at Skyhold Manor’s northwestern side, with a clear view of the balcony as well as the courtyard and the main staircase of the castle’s entrance. 

By his estimate, he’ll have a day or two to reach the optimal distance and angle for his shot. There, he will bid his time: camp out and wait. He will be most likely sitting out in the snow for hours. The last time he was sent to kill one of his earlier contracts, he even had to wait for three days for that one golden opportunity.

Dirthamen had provided him with enough intelligence as to how the gala would proceed, as well as the program and possible security measures taken.

He had brought his survival pack with him, along with his new arctic rifle to simulate the most probable scenario as close as he can. _Preparation of the body is as important as preparation of the mind._ He trudged on the treacherous mountain, his crampon crushing snow and ice beneath him.

A feeling of being watched raised his hackles. Solas twisted behind him. Linen white greeted him back. At this height, the wind sounded more like a howl. The Avvars believed that every material expanse of the world is imbued with spirits. He raised his eyes to the sky. It was just plain blue now. He felt the chilly breeze caressed his cheeks. The Lady of the Skies seemed to greet him as he stood at the corpse of Korth, the Mountain-Father.

_Everything is alive. The world is watching._

He shook his earlier suspicion and kept moving forward. His breathing was starting to become laborious. He checked his digital watch and was pleased he has made good time. Tomorrow morning, he can begin his descent.

There are still wrinkles he needed to iron out, tiny details that could be his undoing.

Solas also needed to plan how he’d disappear afterwards.

* * *

“Thanks for watching after Pounce for me!”

“Sure thing.” Ellana grimaced as she waved Anders goodbye. He had just returned from a break in his studies in White Spire. He ran straight to her after landing in Haven Int’l, showering the tabby with so much affection Ellana felt like cringing. Thankfully, he finally found a space in Brynnlaw that allows pets. She was glad to finally have the infernal cat leave her apartment. Damn thing shat everywhere in her bathroom and Ellana had to contend with the disgusting smell permeating the space while she bathes. _Ugh!_ Weeks not seeing his blond can-opener must have enraged the little devil. It didn’t torment her much the last she had to baby-sit the furry twat.

_Well, it did help her talk with her cute neighbor._

If she landed a date with Solas, maybe she’ll forgive the insufferable thing. Maybe, buy it a month’s worth of cat food, too.

She sighed as she closed her apartment door. Lace’s reminder of the double-date still blinked on her phone, she hadn’t replied yet. It was already 4:00pm and Lace already reserved a seat at some pub she wants to introduce Ellana to. They’re expected at 6. She bit her lips.

Okay, maybe she wouldn’t have this dilemma if she didn’t lie to Harding and told her that Solas had agreed to the arrangement days before. Which he hadn’t because _she_ didn’t even seen the guy after that lovely, lovely little dinner. _Ohhh._ Now, she’s stuck in the conundrum of her own making. _She only did it to shut her up!_

Ellana hit her forehead with her phone. _Idiot, idiot, idiot! You desperate, pathetic idiot!_

She heard heavy steps ascended the hallway staircase. Bartrand’s apartment wall was a sub-standard piece of plaster. Lucky she was out most days, so Ellana doesn’t truly know if she had annoyingly loud neighbors. There was a thud as something was dropped to the floor, then the familiar shuffle of keys. Ellana alerted. She jumped up and eyed her keyhole. And like a miracle answered, she saw the familiar figure of Solas, opening his apartment door. Without thinking, Ellana unlocked hers and pulled enthusiastically.

“Solas!”

Solas startled as the door behind screeched open.

“Ellana…?”

He was wearing a thick winter coat, flecks of snow was still visible at his shoulders. His bulky rucksack leaned on his doorframe. Solas looked like he was out hiking and just recently returned. He blinked owlishly at her, looking a bit worse for wear. That deflated her a bit.

Solas turned to her fully, a light furrow on his brow. “Is something the matter?”

His voice was low, almost sounding concerned. Her heart beat a little bit faster. _Talk about line opening._

“Well…I…uh.” Ellana swallowed. “I was wondering if…you, know. What I said to you before – I mean…the drinks! Us! No, not us like us, ‘ _us’_ …but you know, together.”

 _You’re so god damn eloquent! No wonder guys fall head over heels for you!_ Could the ground open and eat her up, please. That’ll be appreciated!

Solas cleared his throat. Ellana wasn’t sure if it was the dim hallway light, but she could swear he was blushing. “…Are you asking me out, on a date?”

Ellana chuckled nervously. “…Yes…”

"...Right _now?"_

"...Yes...?"

“…I…”

His lashes fluttered, like somehow he could not believe she had just done so. _Did he think I was just joking before, then?_

“I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to!” Ellana burst out. “I just – I-It’s no pressure.”

Solas seemed to contemplate his answer and Ellana watched him with bated breath. But after the short pause, that felt like _hours,_ he gave a tentative smile. “I’d love to join you.”

Ellana grinned. “Great! I’ll get ready.”

Solas nodded and picked up his rucksack. Ellana was almost skipping in relief but before she could step to her room, she remembered she forgot to tell him one teeny-tiny-bit of detail.

“Wait!”

Solas stopped mid-step.

“I may have forgotten to say something _very_ important…” Ellana took a deep breath. “It’s a double-date.”

He blinked. “…A _double-date?”_

Ellana nodded, unable to look him in the eye. “…I-It’s with my friend. A really, really good friend. And I – uh, may have told her I have a date with me tonight a-and…uh, oh Maker. I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to feel being put upon.”

“You asked me out because you needed a date for tonight?”

_Oof! That sounded bad._

“NO!” Ellana locked her gaze with his. “I wanted to go out with you but I never got a chance to really ask properly. This seemed like a good opportunity as any so… I mean, you’re not some convenience –”

“Ellana.” Solas interrupted. “I do not mind.”

“I know! I’m so sorry, I – wait…Oh! Oh…”

She laughed nervously and licked her lips. Solas smiled sheepishly.

“…Great! And I’m sorry. Again.”

Solas chuckled. “I can think of worse fates.”

* * *

Solas wore a simple plain, white long-sleeved shirt topped with a navy sweatshirt and paired with dark-colored chinos and comfortable loafers. He had a productive time the last few days, a night to unwind seemed warranted. He locked the door to his apartment. He didn't even as he heard Ellana shuffled behind him.

“I hope Cole doesn’t mind me stealing you for tonight.”

Solas pocketed his keys and chuckled. “He’s out of town at the moment. I –” The words died on his lips.

“What do you think?”

She straightened as she presented herself to him for his perusal. It was simple enough attire, a plain black tank-top and a short sequined skirt, showing her long lovely legs. She had on some short-heeled leather boots, tucking her long trench coat at the hook of her arm. Her brown hair was rolled and pinned at the sides, stray locks stumbling lazily across the slope of her graceful neck. Ellana smiled at him.

And it was dazzling.

Solas was speechless.

She scrunched her nose. “Is it too much?”

He shook his head, blinking rapidly, “I –”

“…I don’t really own many nice clothes.”

_Say something, fool!_

Solas cleared his throat. “…You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” She grinned, delighted. “You look handsome yourself.”

He straightened his shirt self-consciously. “…Thank you.”

Solas offered his arm as they descended the stairs, she grinned as she took it. They hailed a cab and Ellana directed them to a pub in the heart of downtown, Haven. The pub named, _‘One for the Ditch’_ do not look as grim or disorderly as the name implies. There was a bar near the center, a dance floor and several tables surrounding the side areas. Bright phosphoric lights lined the walls, too jarring for his tastes.

“Elle!”

Solas saw a red-headed dwarven woman waved from the crowd. Ellana waved back, “Lace!”

Lace pointed down to signal them their seat. The two women embraced one another enthusiastically.

“Lace, Solas.” Ellana began the introduction. “Solas, Lace.”

“A pleasure to meet you.” Solas replied automatically.

Lace eyed him from head to toe; she reached out a hand and said, “It’s Lace Harding.”

Solas took it and returned. “Solas Talas.”

Lace winked at Ellana. The latter grumbled. “So, Lace, where’s Kenric?”

“Oh, over there ordering the drinks.” She waved dismissively at the direction of the bar. “House’s full tonight. So, Solas right?” Harding twisted to face him; the dwarven woman was eyeing him keenly. Testingly. “You’re new around Haven, yea? What brought you here?”

“Lace…” There was a light warning in Ellana’s voice.

Solas smiled at Ellana then at Lace, “I work at _Vir Adahlen_ as one of their field photographers.”

“Ooh, the artist type. That’s interesting. Could you tell us more?”

Despite the over-all affable ambiance, Solas could detect there was more than interest that’s driving her questions. There was an air of protectiveness every time she glanced at Ellana. A kind of familial concern. Solas answered her questions as best he can, regarding his work. It was simple enough; he had answered dozen of such throughout his bogus career as a photographer. When an opportunity arose, he turned the table.

“I am curious, where did the two of you meet?”

“Haven PD.” Harding said proudly. “Elle here helped me get adjusted when I just moved in. Not much women in the task force.”

Solas’ mind paused to a grinding halt. “Haven PD?”

“Oh, didn’t Ellana tell you she’s a part of the local task force? One of the damn best, too.”

“Oh, shush, Lace.” Ellana stuck her tongue out.

_That actually explained her martial skills. Why had he not considered this before?_

Another voice in his head piped up, _because you let yourself be fooled by a pretty face._

His reaction was saved when Kenric returned with their drinks. He was a human man, red-headed like Harding. He had on a spectacle and was constantly adjusting them with his arm as the crowd jostled him. “Hey, everyone. I hope you didn’t mind us ordering things.”

Ellana waved at him. “It’s fine. Never been here before, your suggestions is as good as any.”

Kenric sets down the mug and ale slushed around messily. Solas’ tastes leans more to spirits rather than beer but for the sake of politeness, accepted the offered drink. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” Kenric grinned. “Oh, name’s Bram Kenric, by the way.”

“He just returned from his residency in _Suledin University_.” Harding piped in, knowingly.

Ellana choked on her mug.

Solas stalled his reply by taking a drink, eyeing the two women casually. _Interesting._

Bram went off to explain his studies in for his doctorate residency in the university’s Anthropology Department. After Bram explained the particulars of buckles, Solas decided to give a little information of his own. Whatever he had to say, it was no secret. Better to hear it from his lips than have them delve deeper on their own.

_Always be above suspicion._

“I used to study in Kinloch but I never finished my degree. Although, I was granted an honorary one by Suledin University. It was for my contribution to the ethnographic study of the survivors of the Dalish Civil War who refused to submit to the Orlesian Government and instead, continued to live as _illegal_ residents in the Emerald Graves.”

Bram froze. “ _Wait._ Is that the same research study headed by Dr. Halas?”

“Yes, it was led by Dr. Lisell Halas.”

_Or rather, Sylaise._

“Whoa! Maker, that was a brilliant research!”

_Yes…’brilliant’._

“I haven’t heard of it…” Ellana was looking at Solas but his attention was somewhere else. Although, it was more ‘ _when’_ than ‘ _where’._ He blocked the thought from his mind.

_It is of little consequence now._

Bram Kenric was oblivious to his thoughts and he continued his yapping. “ _The_ _Long Walk_ was the name of the released documentary based on that. It spurred the whole pro-elf movement! It certainly propelled and secured former elven Ambassador Radhmael Geal’s career in the Orlesian politics. Remember the Verchiel Laws passed by Prime Minister Amity in the 9:60? Under that law, no elves or even elven-blooded with grandparents 3-4 times remove, could ever own businesses, titles – legal or professional.” Bram looked positively excited. “But when the results from that study were released and subsequent documentary, the public outcry was momentous! The protests spread like wild-fire! It was a movement that changed the world.”

“Bram.” There was an apologetic tone in Harding’s voice.

“What?...oh.” Bram was beet red when he finally looked at their two elven companions. “Oh. I’m, uh…I mean…”

“It’s okay, Bram.” Ellana said, sounding a bit stretch. She subconsciously tucked an errand strand behind her long ears. The reminder made Bram flush. He looked down, embarrassed by his excited outburst.

Harding was squirming a bit uncomfortably in her seat. “Well, the dance floor looks like fun. I think Bram and I will go ahead, show our moves.”

“Sorry.” Bram said guiltily, to no one and everyone.

“Hush! Come on.”

Solas watched the dwarven woman drag her boyfriend away.

“Sorry about that.”

Solas turned to Ellana. “What for?”

“Don’t play coy, Solas. I know that you know Lace was interrogating you.” She sighed. “She can be…over-protective.”

He watched her beneath his lashes. “She cares for you.”

“A little way too much.”

The two of them quieted. Solas watched the amber liquid slush lazily inside his mug and frowned. “I don’t even like beer.”

“Pffft.” Ellana then laughed. Solas chuckled with her. Ellana was shaking her head. “Some date this is.”

He returned his attention back to Ellana. His date.

_Good grief, why did he even agree to go out with her in the first place?_

Obviously, he was not thinking. The woman pounced on him with the question.

_But weren’t you delighted she asked?_

He was…It has been a long time since someone had looked at him with interest. And Ellana was…very easy to the eyes.

He pushed the mug aside. Solas needed his faculties straight. This _date._ This _dalliance._ The end goal here was clear: a quick tryst, someone to blow the steam off.

Solas had always been comfortable with his self and his sexuality. Ellana was not the first woman he bedded. What a shot of bourbon couldn’t fix, a good tumble usually could. His job required him to travel around and meeting new and interesting partners was both fast and easy whenever he needed one, at least for him. Arrangements like this were nothing new. This was familiar territory.

_Go on then, proposition her._

Solas remained rigidly seated. Not even one twitch of his muscle.

_What in the Void?_

What is he, some green pubescent? He knew how this particular game works. _She may not be into it._ So what if she rejected him? It won’t kill him to ask. But the idea of rejection coming from her…

For a moment, Solas was struck by this newfound fear.

It was…alienating.

He could feel agitation creep in his veins. _If not her, then perhaps others here._ He looked around the bar. There were a lot of beautiful women; some even eyed him with interest. But none of them had appealed to him tonight and the thought of such intimacy with any one of them made him blanch.

_This won’t do. This won’t do at all._

Ellana was sipping her beer lazily, oblivious to his warring thoughts.

_What is it with her that he can’t find in others?_

She is pretty. Not even his usual type if he was honest. Still…

Ellana caught him staring and smiled. Solas smiled back. Or he hopes he does anyway and not displaying a dirty looking grimace. She gave him a toothy one. His heart skipped a beat. He frowned.

_Why does she make him feel so…_

Ellana cocked her in a silent question.

_…well, ‘something’._

“Is everything all right?”

Solas almost choked. “Yes.”

Her simple attention made him feel hot. He wanted her body, he can’t deny that. There was a promising tilt in her lips that made him feel heavy. But more than that, he wanted…he wanted…

Solas snapped his mind out of his thoughts. This is only his loneliness speaking. His tension, too, come to think of it. He’d been under a lot of strain lately. Surely, that must be it.

Perhaps Marethari’s insistence of finding him someone to have a relationship with was starting to sink in.

_Void and damnation!_

She’s just like every other woman he has had. Surely, she’ll disappear from his system as cleanly as they did. Solas hadn’t allowed himself to enjoy baser pleasures ever since… well, ever since he decided to be a father really. That seemed to push most of his selfish thoughts aside.

_Yes, that is it._

_If_ he could make her agree for a one-night-stand, all this insidious thoughts would disappear. A taste, then all of this will be out of his system. They will both have a pleasant time and move on. Nothing more, nothing less. Done. Over.

Solas watched her lick the froth on her lips.

 _It’s just sex._ A safe and familiar dance. _Just sex._

Nothing more.

“Say, would you like to go someplace else?”

Solas was startled out of his thoughts. “Excuse me?”

Ellana puts down her mug. “It’s too loud here.”

“…A walk outside?”

“Yeah.” Ellana grinned.

_An opportunity._

“All right.”

“Great, I’ll just pay for these.”

Solas grabbed his wallet out of his pocket but Ellana stopped him. “Please, I won’t charge you for enduring such swill.”

Lace and Bram was lost in the dance floor so Ellana decided to text her friend instead to let them know they were leaving. She wore her trench coat once more as they headed outside. Solas breathe in the evening air.

_All right, Solas. Keep it cool and casual._

* * *

“Ellana?”

She looked up at Solas. “Hmm?”

“…I…well,” he began to pat the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

He’d been quiet all evening. Ellana was starting to worry. “Is there something wrong?”

Solas opened his mouth and closed it. Ellana could see him debate things internally. _Which is a worrisome sign…_ He exhaled raggedly and began, “I don’t believe we’d work well together.”

Ellana’s heart sank.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, it wasn’t the most fun of dates…”

“No, it’s not about the date.” Solas interrupted, his face flushed. “I was thinking more about our… professions. I tend to go out of country. What I do is not exactly conducive for any kind of relationship. If that is what you are expecting…”

It sucks. Every word he said sucks. But Ellana bore it with dignity, nodding at his assessment. “Yeah, I mean, between your job and mine, I don’t think we’d have time for one another.”

Solas’ head bowed. “…Yes. That is what I thought…”

They walked home in silence. Climbing up the stairs to their floors felt like such a grand chore. They both stood at the threshold. Both hands on their respective doorknobs but neither moved to turn it. Solas was staring at her, or past her, until finally, he gave a small nod.

“This is it, then.”

“…I think so.”

“So…

“So.”

Solas let out a low exhale. He gave her a small and sincere smile.

“Goodbye.”

He sounded so sure and final that Ellana couldn’t find it in herself to return the sentiment.

He turned to unlock his apartment door and somehow, Ellana saw his eyes flicker. Solas looked equally relieved and defeated. It was then that Ellana decided she wasn’t willing to simply let this all slip…

_Whatever ‘this’ is._

She blurted, pointing at her door invitingly. “W-Would you like some coffee?”

Like a spell that was broken, his gaze snapped to hers. They were overblown and the intensity of it seared her soul. Ellana swallowed.

He let out a whispered breath. “ _Yes_.”

There was so much weight on those words that the hair on Ellana’s skin raised. She had no idea how she managed to aim her key, her hand was shaking badly. The moment her apartment door closed behind them he stumbled onto her.

Whatever apprehension he had before, he had left them all at the hall.

Ellana parted her mouth as his tongue pushed entry. Her trench coat fell into a heap on the floor. Solas was so warm and needy; his kisses barely gave her pause to breathe. He kneaded her roughly, dragging the heels of his palm onto the soft field of flesh between her ribs and pelvis. He pressed her so close to him it was as if he’d devour her, wear her skin and be truly one with her.

“Solas…” she moaned as he lapped at her neck and bit at her collarbone, before swirling his tongue to dampen the sting. “Oh.”

She began pushing them off the door and tried to lead him to her room and bed but he was too _viciously_ eager that they made it only to her living room divan. They fell together, with him on top of her. His weight was a needed pressure as he ground her to the spot. Oh, the sensations he strummed from her body. Her toes curled in delight!

Solas positioned himself between her thighs and began massaging their sides, hitching up her short skirt in the process. He took her tank-top off, her breasts jiggled beneath her push-up bra from the force of his urgency. _Thank the Maker she thought to wear her best!_

Solas looked dark and hungry.

He was so intensely quiet as he studied her. Ellana could feel her whole body blush at the attention. He leaned low and Ellana opened her lips for the coming kiss only for him to hover an inch from her face with a playful smirk.

Ellana jolted at the sudden electrifying feel of his finger on her moistened sex. He groaned in time with her moan, drinking her breath as she writhed beneath him. Ellana clamped her hand on his shoulder, cotton wrinkling from her grip. Her body lifted on its own accord and she buried her face on his neck. Solas eased her lower with his other hand.

“I want to see you.”

She cried as another digit slipped, twinning and curling inside of her. Solas looked pleasantly flushed and he grinned. He kissed the corner of her lips, bit at the mound of her chin and licked the sweat that started to dribble at her jaw. “Mhmm.”

As his pace quickened, Ellana’s head was staring to buzz. Without warning, potent pleasure flooded her senses and she keened as it battered her to her core. Splotches of white filled her vision, Ellana barely registered Solas pulled her panties down and arrange her legs around him haphazardly. She heard him grunt as he struggled to free himself from the confines of his trousers. He moved closer to her that she could feel the rasping fabric of his shirt on her chest. He didn’t even bother to take them off. She felt warm down where they connected. And it was the only warning she got.

Ellana threw her head back. _And god! Ooooohhh…oh...oh..._

The crystal curtain in her room seemed to glow like that of a dream as she felt him completely enfolded in her in one fluid stroke. Ragged breath puffed at her ear as he stilled. She held him close as his clothing sucked the sweat on her skin, feeling the rapid beating of his heart beneath the thin barrier. Solas reared back and looked at her. She can see naked desire swim within his eyes. Their gaze met and the sudden rush of excitement made her muscles clench. With his attention locked to her, he began moving, slowly. Ellana could feel every delightful inch as he dragged them with controlled precision. His breath puffed at every effort, cooling her skin. Ellana’s lids fluttered and he peppered kisses to her face in time with the rhythmic push and pull.

Ellana couldn’t bear the teasing pace and his molten stare. Sensations raged within her. She wanted to push him off and to crush him close at the same time, and never ever leave this paradise they have molded with their bodies. It was too much and never enough! Her legs squirmed around him, hips moving on their own volition. Like prayers answered, his pounding intensified.

_And, oh!_

_Oh, god…!_

_Oh…Oh…OH!_

Ellana began chanting in ecstasy; incoherent pleas to the Maker, to the heavens and to the man that seem to drive her to the brink of exquisite madness.

“Oh, my god…Oh, Maker…So – Solas!"

Ellana bucked spontaneously. Another wave of bliss rushed through her, spreading from her belly and bursting throughout her body. She let out a low, keen wail as she was subjected to pleasure so urgent it robbed her spirit out of her body and out of her mind. She grappled with his shirt so much, she must have popped a button.

A ragged breath was all the caution she got as Solas came inside of her. He shivered; eyes were tightly close as he rode the strength of his own release. With a few more stuttering thrust, he emptied. He dropped gracelessly atop her. Their combine weights made the upholstery huff and squeak. They lay like that for a while, the implications of their action numbed by their shared satisfaction. The honking of cars from below was the only thing that told them the passage of time.

Solas readjusted one of her thighs and rolled to her side, forgetting they were not making love on a proper bed. His boneless legs snagged at his trousers still half-way down his knees and he fell to his back on the soft carpet with an undignified _oof!_

“Solas!” Ellana leaned down, “are you ok?”

He looked winded and surprised at first but then his eyes crinkled and he laughed and laughed, mouth open and out of breath.

It was infectious.

Something bright and shiny nestled beneath her ribs and Ellana started giggling in turn.

“If you weren’t so insistent, we would be lying on a proper bed,” she teased.

Solas pulled himself up and sat on his haunches before her, smiling beautifully. He reached out to her cheeks with both hands. Ellana was grinning so much it hurts. Cradling her face on his palms, he began kissing her once more. This time it was more passion and less hunger.

He breathed on her lips. “I regret nothing.”

Ellana felt him pull her forward. She giggled.

“Stop it, or I’ll fall off!”

Solas dragged her by the waist. “I’ll be here to catch you.”

The wetness of their earlier love-making dripped lower to her thighs, smearing his legs as he let her straddle him. The car and night lights played like a kaleidoscope against his fair skin. Solas unpins the rest of her now messy hair and they tumbled freely on her shoulders. He ran his hands across her scalp and Ellana relished the pull as he willed her strands to discipline. She felt a light tug as he wrapped his fingers on the tips and drag her head down, exposing her neck to him. _How demanding!_

“You have such lovely neck,” he commented, tracing a finger along her jugular. He unclasped her bra and Ellana took the entire thing off. His idle fingers began drawing ghostly marks on her skin, rounding on her pert nipples. He petted them playfully once, twice and Ellana hissed. He did the same to the other breast. Now he trailed lower, to her belly button, feeling her muscled abdomen. Predictably, it dipped even further, a thumb now inside of her. He swirled it around like a greedy child on a chocolate fountain, pumping it into her and flicking the sensitive nub there. That earned him a half-hearted glare and he smiled boyishly in return.

The hand that held her hair now lay softly at the back of her neck. Ellana watched as Solas dragged the wet thumb to her lower lip, smelling the pungent scent of their conjoined fluid in such close proximity. With a soft but insistent push, she began to suck it. Ellana could see his nose flare as he breathed heavily. Before she could fully clean it, Solas removed his thumb and it let out a crude _popping_ sound _._ His lips crushed hers, consuming their taste together in her mouth, and just as abruptly, he withdrew. He took the same thumb, now also covered in her saliva, and began licking it clean. His eyes were glinting.

_“Mmm.”_

Ellana whimpered at such sensual display.

No lover had this effect on her before.

She leaned forward to kiss those full lips but he drew back and chuckled darkly. With quick movement, he lifted her up and planted her on her knees. Ellana felt him sculpt her spine and derriere and she moaned. For a moment, cold engulfed her as he stepped back. Ellana straightened to see behind her.

“Solas – ?”

“Don’t move.” Solas said, and then added cheekily. “I rather like the view.”

Ellana’s ears flushed. She heard the sound of fabric shuffling behind her and rebellious as she was, moved to look. Solas was now bare for her to see and her eyes drifted down automatically. She showed him her admiration by showering it with long, appreciative look. She wanted to do more but a hand to her wrist stopped her. He chuckled.

“You don’t listen well, do you?”

“Not when I have ideas of my own.”

“Hmmm, fascinating. But…” He bit the tip of her ear and licked a particularly sensitive spot and murmured. “…I have no patience for it tonight.”

Solas flipped her back so quickly, her world spun. He wrapped an arm around her midriff to catch her. Before she could protest, he pushed her body lower with the other arm. Ellana’s body curved into a vulnerable ‘S’, her breasts flat on the carpeted floor. She tried to stir but he held her firmly on the shoulder. Her embers of arousal were now stoked to a blazing fire. He repositions himself in her entrance, hotter than ever. Ellana licked her lips in anticipation. She felt his body mold to her spine.

Ellana felt him shove her partially-open. She reddened in disbelief. “A-Again? So soon?”

“Is that a complaint?”

“N-No, but I thought –”

Solas chuckled. The preening bastard _chuckled._ Ellana opened her mouth to speak but he pushed forward and her words were swallowed by her moan.

_My god!_

She closed her eyes tightly stars were bursting. She never thought his appetite would be so _voracious_. _Insatiable._ A grip on her hips kept her steady as he took her with wild abandon. Ellana gripped the faux fur for dear life as sensations so puissant bottled everything out of her mind. She wailed as her soul broke out of her body for the third time that night, still he kept on, hard and relentless.

Ellana was reduced to mindless sobbing as she felt fully sensitized; her sex was throbbing and fully agape from his persistence.

A long rushed exhale signaled his end and Ellana felt the vague pulsing inside of her. By then, her legs were trembling. She collapsed with a breathy whine as soon as he let go and she barely registered the soft grunt beside her.

She felt a hand guide her body. Her head fell on the warm cushion of his arm. Solas wrapped the other around her and wiped the sweat that made hair clung to her forehead. He looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes, a lazy smile on his lips. Ellana curled to him, her nose to his chest, almost purring. He hummed contently at her ear, snuggling his nose deep in her hair. He kissed her temple gently.

Ellana raised her head and press her lips chastely on his. He gave out a pleased chuckle, an almost child-like giggling, and mumbled.

_“Vhenan.”_

Ellana was unfamiliar with the word. “Hmmm? What was that?”

She looked up to him and found Solas was already deeply asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll talk more about the Hanal'ghilan next chapter <3 The Evanuris will slowly come out of their shells.


	7. What Lies Beneath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I said we'd talk about Hanal'ghilan but this little chapter wrote itself. A little insight to what happened after the rather rushed romance XD

Solas awoke before his alarm.

He patted the night table for his watch and bumped his knuckles on hardwood. _Damn it_. In his blind fumbling, he pushed something off and tiny tinkling things cluttered noisily on the floor. i opened one bleary eye. An assortment of beads and little seashells littered the tiles below. The patterned bed sheet waved languidly in the soft winds from one window left opened. The familiar sound of traffic drifted from below.

This was not his room.

_Ellana._

Solas turned and saw Ellana’s exposed back. Morning light draped her skin, making it glow into a light peach. The floral blankets tucked her below the waist. He traced his fingers on her spine and was fascinated to see goose bumps followed his trail. She mumbled in her sleep and moved, lying flat on her front now, her face still turned away from him.

Last night had been…enjoyable. _Very much so._

Solas was honestly surprised in how fast and potent she could stroke his passion. She had awoken him at the earliest morning to persuade him to rest on a proper bed. Of course, being woken and invited by a beautiful woman to her bed, sleep was the last thing that popped on his mind. Despite her coy protestations and half-hearted chiding, she had opened up to him too willingly.  
  
Gently, he nudged her towards him and much to his delight, she rolled off to her sides, facing him. Her eyes were firmly shut, a soft breath puffed from her pink lips.  
  
Solas smiled. He continued to map the contours of her body, cheeks first then her neck, passing by her arm and finally cradling one of her breasts on his palm, stroking her nipple using his thumb. Ellana’s breath hitched and his smile widened. Solas dragged the blanket away from her, revealing her naked body.  
  
Seeing her now, bare and beautiful, bathe in the full rays of the morning light, his hunger did not dissipate. No, far from it.  
  
Without the darkness to veil her, Ellana looked even more delectable.  
  
She curled after being exposed to the cool morning breeze.  
  
 _That won't do._  
  
Solas softly made her lay on her back and he moved atop her and began kissing her nose. Just a soft light peck on the tip that made her scrunched up. She murmured something and he kissed the edge of her lips. Her hand swatted his cheek and he chuckled. He began biting her digits gently and she whined. Ellana opened her eyes and blinked. He kissed her forehead.

“Good morning.”

She furrowed her brows, “…Solas?”

He answered her with a soft, trailing kiss.

She gasped. “It’s…morning.”

His hand wandered around her waist. “It is.”

“What time is it…?”

He licked her jaw. She whined again. He began to bite her.

She groaned. “…Solas!”

“Hmm?”

“What time is it?”

He rubbed her breasts and began sucking and nipping.

“Solas…Ah!” Her palms rested at the back of his head needily. “Oh, god! _Hnnn…Solas!”_ she laughed breathily. “The time!”

He rolled a nipple and pinched. Ellana squeezed her legs and moaned. Solas gazed at her. Her pupils were full and dilated, biting her lips in anticipation. He dipped his fingers to her core and found them wet and waiting.

“…Solas…!”

“I don’t know what time it is.” He answered before kissing her again. He readjusted himself between her legs and she shivered. Her arms locked him in a tight embrace. She pushed her hips up and met him half-way and they began their dance once more. Solas groaned as he settled within her, pleasure dancing in his skin. He closed his eyes as he began to move. Ellana gasped and he murmured happily. “And I don’t care.”

* * *

“Sorry about the mess.”

Ellana raised her head at him questioningly.

Solas motioned the empty glass bowl where her collection of cheap beads and fake seashells were.

A little something to remind her of the seaside. A little bit of home. “Oh, that.” She slumped back on her pillow and waved her hand off, “Later. I’m not in the mood.”

“I thought you have somewhere you needed to be?”

Ellana shifted her head to face him. Solas was propped up on the bed with one elbow, fingers caressing her shoulder down to her arm.

“No, I got disoriented.” Ellana chuckled. “My scheds changed and it’s now my day off. I forgot.” Her eyes narrowed playfully, “why, if I’d guess you were trying to charm me out of work?”

“Me? No. Never.” But the quirk of his brow betrayed him.

“Why, aren’t you naughty?” She traced the lines of his jugular down to his collarbone. A faint discoloration of skin marked the center of his chest, too near his heart. _No one could have survived this._ She trailed her finger to it, brows furrowed. “What happened?”

“A childhood scar.”

Ellana looked up to him worriedly, “how did you get it?”

Solas lay down on his back, Ellana adjusted as she took his offered arm to lay on it. The other was tucked to his head. “I don’t remember.”

She leaned forward and kissed it. Ellana absent-mindedly drew patterns around it as she looked up to him. “It looks fatal.”

He only shrugged. “Well, I’m reasonably certain I am alive.”

Ellana giggled. “Really? I sometimes wonder if you’re just a figment of my imagination. My experience thus far feels… surreal.”

Solas gave a self-satisfied smirk, turning towards her and diving in for a deep kiss.

She felt the familiar stirrings of desire heating her skin. It seemed to affect him just as much as well. Ellana bit her lower lip in delight. Anything, even the littlest things, could get him on the mood. She could not think of any woman who’d complain to that. Ellana couldn’t help but smirk, “whatever happened to the shy wildlife photographer?”

“Shy? Whenever did I give such impression?” Ellana’s lips parted, but she had no words to contradict him and that made him chuckle. “Perhaps you mistake my quiet observation as such. That is how I stalk my subjects, by being silent and beating around the bushes, as some would say.” Then Solas trailed his hand below her belly button, clasping the rough curls of her sex. He dragged a finger to her mound and Ellana gasped. Solas wiggled his brows. “So, as far as I am concerned, I’m quite in my element here.”

She playfully slapped his shoulder and he laughed as he kissed her.

“You are such a tease.”

“Tease, me?” he crawled towards her. “I am not the one looking so luscious this morning.”

“You are –” she threw her pillow at him and rolled off quickly from the bed “incorrigible!” She ran, laughing merrily as she sped along the short hallway between her bedroom and living room.

Solas’ followed her, laughing delightfully.

She picked up her robe, hanging on wall on the entrance of her bathroom. Ser Pounce’s influence still lingered in the small space. _Yuck!_ Thank god the smell didn’t linger on her bathrobe. She shut the door quickly. By then, Solas had caught up to her.

He gripped her waist and whirled her around to face him. She squealed as he nipped her cheeks, her neck and her ears. His continuous touching untangled the ties to her robe and Ellana laughed as she pushed him off playfully. “Unlike you, I need more than sex to survive. You know, like eating?

His grin grew wider. “You’ve done a lot of eating and nibbling last night.”

“I meant food, you maniac!”

He laughed.

Ellana retied her robe and padded on to her kitchen. She opened her topmost cupboard and snatched two of her favorite instant, microwave-ables, showing them to him. “Which one do you prefer? Some Rivaini bird soup or some stir-fry?”  

Solas eyed her offerings. “That is not food. You can’t convince me that _that_ is food.”

“It is. It says so right here. _‘Real’–_ ”

“No.” He picked up his clothes that littered across her carpet. He put on his boxers and trousers, and finally his shirt, barricading the lovely expanse of his flesh. “You wait here; I’ll go get something from my kitchen.”

“Oh, wait! Can I use your bathroom?”

Solas raised a brow.

“My bathroom smells like cat piss,” she explained.

“By all means, you are welcome to mine.”

Solas had quickly cleaned up first before preparing their breakfast. Ellana took a bit of time to enjoy her warm shower after him. Thankfully, the heaters still worked. _Maybe, Bartrand wasn’t such an asshole, after all_.

Solas’ bathroom, like the rest of his apartment, was plain and clinical. The only thing of color is the yellow cat covering of Cole’s toothbrush glued to the wall tiles and missing said brush. The pastel pink-and-blue plastic bottle of her Crystal Grace shampoo was a stark contrast to his utilitarian miscellany. After she stepped out of her bath with only her robe for clothing, she was welcomed by the smell of freshly cooked food.

She made his way to him and patted his bum and whispered, “mhmm! Yum,” before eagerly sitting at the table counter.

Solas ears were red and he gave her a sheepish smile. “It’ll be done in a moment. Help yourself with whatever you want from the fridge.”

Ellana decided to get some fresh orange juice and cool water. She decided to help out by setting up the plates and utensils, pouring them both some juice. Honestly, it felt awkward. Domestic activities were a strange thing to her. Well, having proper meals were not exactly common. Back when she still lived in the Alienage, they could barely scrape by. Having innumerable cousins didn’t help. They worried about food in a day-to-day basis, buying cheap meals still wrapped in sweating plastic and eating them directly there too. Well, why waste time cleaning dishes when you need every second to hustle? Now that she was working and had enough money to properly sit down and eat, the habit has not left her.

Her eyes lingered around his living room, falling on a picture frame by the far wall. The only personal decoration she had seen. It was a scenery. Dramatic rock formations with grasping shadows filled the grassland amidst warm afternoon. A silhouette of an old ruin can be seen in the distance, framed by sparse trees, draping it in patterned shadows and splotches of light.

“That’s beautiful.”

“Hmm?” Solas glanced at her and followed her gaze. “Oh, that. I took that near Ville Montevelan.”

“The Exalted Plains.”

“Yes. _Dirthavaren._ The Promise.” Solas corrected in Elvish. He had a beautiful accent, the syllables wrap around his tongue like music. A thought she had almost forgotten resurfaced

“Solas?”

Solas was flipping another toasted egg in the pan. “Hmm?”

“What is _‘vhenan’_?”

The pan cluttered loudly. _“Fenedhis!”_

She startled. Worriedly, she stood up to peer at him from her seat. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He moved the hot pan out of the fire and wiped his hand with a kitchen towel. He waved her concern dismissively. “It’s nothing.” His face was tight. “Where did you hear it?”

“You murmured it in your sleep.”

“Ah.”

Solas was quiet as he arranged their morning meal. He sat slowly at the table. Ellana sat after him, an expectant look on her face.

“…It’s ancient Elvish,” he said at last.

“Well, I gathered it was another language.”

He looked at her briefly before distributing their breakfast. “It’s nothing. Just… an endearment.”

“Endearment?” Ellana said as he handed out her part and she began to eat. “So, it has the same connotation as say ‘ _dear’_ or _‘honey’_?”

The muscles of his jaws worked. “In a manner of speaking.”

 _Then, why does it bother you so?_ Ellana shifted in her seat. “It’s so strange. I don’t know much about Elvhen history prior to the Dalish Wars. Information was just…foggy?” She took a bite off the toast. “So, you got this from your degree?”

“Yes and no.” At her confused look, he began to explain. “I acquired the knowledge as a research assistant. By then, I had dropped out of Kinloch.”

“Why?”

Solas shrugged.  “It was unworthy of my time.”

Ellana raised her brow, but quieted.

Solas noticed her change of countenance. “You seem very bothered by it.”

“I – No… I just…” She squirmed at her seat. “I’m sorry. It’s just in the Alienage…having an education is like winning a lottery in life. If it wasn’t for CAER… I don’t know where I would be…”

“You do know the Divine Enterprise funded the war that ultimately displaced the elves in the Dales.” His eyes were razor sharp.

“Justinia had passed on laws and proposals that helped the elven people.”

“Yes, as a kind of restitution from the money her family harvested from the blood of the elves.”

Ellana was beginning to get worked up. “Have you been to an Alienage, Solas?”

Solas only raised a brow, daring her to continue.

She began. “You don’t see humans killing elves. Or dwarves or kossiths. It’s always one elf killing and maiming another elf. For money, for lyrium, heck, even just to get a kick at it just to prove that they could. You go down the police station and it’s always elves committing the most crimes. Not just in Haven. This is happening all throughout Southern Thedas. Why is that?”

“There are people more responsible than others.” Solas replied. “Her family was close supporters of Amity. You do know what he did, don’t you? Must I recite the histories that brought us to this point?”

“Surely, you can’t dismiss help simply by the hand that offers it?”

“Truly, Ellana? And who benefits from these charitable acts? These ‘washing of hands’?”

“What is done is done. We can no more change history as we do the weather.”

“No, but we can ensure that those responsible be delivered their due.”

“And renew a destructive cycle.” Ellana replied passionately. “We can’t stay forever hung up because of our past. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m working so hard. To prove that you can be an elf and live a just and honorable life, with dignity. With respect.”

“And the crimes go unpunished?”

“Who punishes who? Who is above the law?”

“Ah. The law.” He said, chuckling derisively. “Of course, you are referring to the same law that discriminates the elven people. The same one that took the Dales and declared them as human property.”

Ellana decided a different tactic, “how far do you intend to see this retributive justice is met? I don’t want to see another war. We've barely recovered from the last.”

“Justice seems capable to find its ways.”

Ellana’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

“Those who were at the wrong are dropping like flies. Take that judge in the news for instance. It’s rather disgusting how he is applauded as a martyr for justice. The only reason he took on the Ilithis case was because it ruffled his cronies in Darktown.”

Ellana leaned back to her chair and scoffed. “I can’t – You’re not seriously referring to that Dread Wolf character, are you?”

“What if I am?”

“You can’t think what he does is right!”

Solas crossed his arms. “And if I do?”

Ellana blinked. “Solas, he murders people!”

“Murder implies that the people killed were free of guilt.”

Ellana shook her head.

Solas leaned in, “Connobar Elstan, a war profiteer. David Caridin, owner of the Caridin Institution, known for procuring trafficked elven for experimentations. Bran Cavin, the infamous judge swimming the pocket of carta and coteries. Those were just the three that came to mind.”

“And the de Brassards? They were only protesters. Activists! The only crime they did was to voice out their opinion.”

Solas face blanched for a moment, but he quickly collected himself. “Collateral.”

“ _Collateral.”_ She echoed, aghast. Ellana couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Solas remained impassive. _God, he’s so detached from all of this. Like it’s some kind of theoretical problem he only juggles around inside his head._ Ellana schooled her face into a neutral. “You followed his tracks.”

“He’s a national sensation. I am an anthropological researcher. I find his use of Elven histories fascinating.”

She scowled, disappointment bleeding into her voice. “I can’t understand how you would justify his actions.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“What?”

“The law has failed the elves time and time again. You can’t be naïve enough to still believe in it.”

Ellana gritted her teeth. “I never said it was perfect.”

“But you refuse to see it critically.”

“That depends how you define ‘critical’.”

“Ah. Is this part where we simply have to agree to disagree?”

Ellana’s only reply was to stab the food with her fork.

* * *

The breakfast was a short and awkward event after that. Gone was the rapport they have built the night prior. Ellana was quiet after their short bout of disagreement. Solas was content not to pry on further. Her views… irked him.

Ellana stood up after the meal. There were a lot of leftovers. Solas had lost his appetite as well.

“Thanks." Her voice was dry, her face impassive. She gestured at the plates. "Need any help?"

Solas waved his hand, “leave it.”

Ellana nodded.

They remained that way, her standing up and he sitting idly down, eyeing everything except one another.

“I’ll go,” she said finally.

“That would be best.”

He heard her gritting her teeth. “Right.” Ellana straightened, back ram-rod straight and looking all stern with her wet hair and printed bathrobe. She walked to his door with military precision, opening and closing it with rigid formality that in any other case would have looked ridiculous.

But Solas didn’t feel like laughing.

As soon as he heard the knob ‘click’, he breathed out. Something seemed to have stuck in his throat. _I need a drink._

He leaned on his counter and took out his reserve, eyeing the half-finished food on the plates. Bottle and glass clinked. But out of his missteps, only one glared at him tauntingly.

 _Vhenan_ he had said, no doubt towards her, in his sleep. He whirled the golden liquid in his hand.

Lisell’s voice echoed in his head, sharp and to the point. It was during their trip to the _Din’an Hanin,_ reading one of the epitaphs on the old burial grounds. He remembered leaning down, practicing his knowledge of the ancient tongue. This was where he had first encountered the word.

 _“Ma’vhenan mi’nas’sal’in sule’melahn’an.”_ He paused, cleaning the dirt off that clung to the old flattened stone, and continued. “ _Ra ju’ea i’ma bellanaris”_

“What does it say?” Lisell asked testily, not even glancing down at him from her notes.

Solas narrowed his eyes in concentration. “ _Mi’nas’sal’in_ roughly translates as ‘longing’.” He re-read the last phrase, “something about, ‘remaining forever’. But the first word…”  

 _"Ma'vhenan._ 'My heart' in Elvish. It is commonly used to describe a longing for people or places from a happier past.” Lisell supplied with the enthusiasm of dry sawdust.

Solas read the entire epitaph again, translating the words inside his head. _My heart longs for you 'til then, and will remain with you forever after._

Touching.

Whatever was inside did not remain though. There were crowbar marks at the edge of the stone slab, grave robbers or ‘excavators’ had long since plundered the sepulcher. Nothing lasts forever, apparently.

The perspiring glass returned him to the present and he downed his drink in one gulp. Alcohol burned his throat, and yet the heaviness was still there.

It was just an inane rambling during a post-coital bliss. It doesn’t deserve his attention.

This is what he wanted wasn’t it? No ties, no complications. He’ll flush her out of his mind quickly enough. The disagreement was a rather fortuitous excuse.

_This changes nothing._

The sweet smell of Crystal Grace filled his small apartment. Solas poured another drink and downed it just as quickly. His grip tightened and the glass squeaked under his fingers.

_Nothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! that went down fast XD Damn it, you two!
> 
> The Elvhen is a lift off from Fenxshiral's lexicon. Its grammar is mangled. Also, the english one is directly taken from Elandrin's codex entry.


End file.
